ON" 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


'/ 


^'AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON" 


2r  Storg  of  tlje  Ular 


By    G.  W.  HOSMEE,  M.D. 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    FRANKLIN    SQUARE 

1885 


Copyright,  1885,  by  Harper  &;  Brothers. 


All  rigfUs  mervcd. 


"AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 


CHAPTEE  I. 

ON   THE    PICKET-LINE. 


Across  onr  front,  and  not  very  far  away,  ran  a 
road  tliat  led  from  Culpepper  on  the  south  toward 
Lost  Mountain  and  Ashby's  Gap  on  the  north ;  and 
the  Colonel  passed  some  time  every  night  on  that 
road.  One  glorious,  silent,  starlight  night  he  ex- 
plored it  as  usual,  accompanied  only  by  Captain 
Pembroke,  who  was  then  acting  as  major — for  the 
major  had  been  killed  at  Malvern  Hills.  They  had 
ridden  with  customary  care  a  mile,  perhaps,  beyond 
our  last  picket,  and  toward  the  south,  when  the  Col- 
onel heard  a  sound  ahead  which  he  stopped  to  con- 
sider. He  was  soon  satisfied  there  was  a  horseman 
coming  down  this  road  toward  them.  He  heard 
clearly  in  a  few  moments  the  jingle  of  accoutre- 
ments, and  then  a  voice  singing  the  Southern  dog- 
gerel, "Hurrah  for  the  bonnie  blue  flag,  that 
bears  a  single  star."  It  was  a  Confederate  soldier, 
therefore ;  but  were  there  more  behind  him  ?     Was 

602960 


it  a  case  that  required  a  rapid  ride  to  our  lines  that 
the  men  might  be  put  under  arms  to  be  ready  for 
any  possibility,  or  was  this  merely  some  straggler 
unaware  that  there  were  Union  troops  near  by  ?  Or 
was  this  horseman,  indeed,  the  bait  to  a  trap  ? 

Dave  had  often  laughed  at  the  simplicity  of  cer- 
tain of  our  newly-fledged  regimental  and  brigade 
commanders,  who  had  only  come  down  South  to  be 
caught  in  some  easy  trap  and  be  marched  away  pris- 
oners by  Mosby  or  others  of  that  kidney.  Indeed 
for  mishaps  of  that  sort  there  was  no  sympathy,  and 
the  old  man  knew  it  would  never  do  to  be  caught 
in  that  way. 

And  yet  if  he  should  ride  away  from  this  possi- 
ble trap  and  give  an  alarm  in  camp  ! 

An  old  soldier  does  not  put  his  men  under  arms 
after  taps  for  slight  reasons,  and  never  on  suspi- 
cion. Hasty  and  inconsiderate  alarms  are  common 
where  soldiers  are  new  to  their  duty ;  but  they  did 
not  occur  in  old  Dave's  camp.  In  the  few  moments 
before  the  stranger  came  into  view  over  the  hill  in 
front,  the  Colonel  judged  that  it  would  be  safe  to 
see  clearly  what  was  behind  this  night-rambler,  and 
then  if  he  was  alone  they  would  take  him ;  for  a 
pi-isoncr  is  an  article  of  value  in  all  cases  where  in- 
formation in  regard  to  the  movements  of  the  enemy 
is  so  scarce  as  it  was  with  us  at  that  period.  He 
may  not  mean  to  tell  you  anything,  but  he  cannot 
help  it.  The  mere  name  of  his  regiment  or  divi- 
sion tells  what  troops  are  near  you. 

And  a  soldier  is  always  proud  to  tell  the  name  of 


ON  THE   PICKET-LINE.  5 

Ills  commander,  because  lie  glories  in  the  achieve- 
ments of  his  own  corps.  Between  Manassas  and 
Gainesville,  in  tliat  very  campaign,  one  of  our  com- 
panies got  a  fellow  who  wouldn't  say  a  word — held 
his  mouth  as  tight  as  a  bear-trap.  But  when  he  was 
asked,  with  an  indifferent  air,  what  army  he  was  in, 
he  lifted  up  his  head  and  said,  "  General  Long- 
street's,  sir."  Well,  that  fact  was  of  wonderful  con- 
sequence to  us.  It  had  been  supposed  that  we  were 
on  Stonewall  Jackson's  flank,  and  that  he  was  cut 
off  ;  but  here  was  Longstreet  in  front.  That  fellow 
saved  our  army  from' wasting  five  thousand  men  in 
a  vain  battle :  yet  his  fixed  purpose  was  not  to  give 
any  information. 

Dave,  who  knew  all  the  value  of  a  prisoner,  con- 
sequently led  Pembroke  into  the  shadow  of  the 
woods,  and  they  waited  for  the  stranger,  who  came 
in  sight  in  a  very  little  while. 

He  was  a  handsome  figure  in  the  starlight.  He 
sat  with  an  easy  and  gallant  air  a  tall  bay,  whose  fine 
limbs  they  saw  would  bother  them  greatly  if  she 
had  a  chance  to  run  for  her  rider's  liberty,  and 
whose  restiveness  showed  that  an  easy  gait  was  taken 
for  some  other  reason  than  consideration  for  hei*. 

Confederate  soldiers  whose  uniforms  could  be 
fairly  called  fresh  or  brilliant  were  seldom,  seen  on 
our  front  at  any  place  or  time ;  for  they  were  not 
put  near,  apparently,  till  the  tough  experiences  of  a 
soldier's  life  had  dimmed  the  bravery  of  the  first 
suit,  and  a  second  suit  was  an  unknown  fact.  But 
this  soldier's  suit  was  less  dingy  than  common.    His 


6  "AS  WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

gray  seemed  to  have  a  gloss  of  newness ;  and  Lis 
buttons  and  gold  lace  and  other  frippery,  though 
their  glitter  was  perhaps  exaggerated  by  the  decep- 
tive illumination  of  the  stars,  seemed  to  declare 
themselves  ignorant  of  the  vicissitudes  of  a  cam- 
paign. 

Dave  consequently  indulged  doubts  whether  this 
could  be  one  of  Lee's  men.  If  he  was,  he  had 
joined  Lee's  army  lately,  and  the  army  was  not  far 
away;  for  this  fellow  seemed  to  come  out  of  a 
bandbox.  Yet  there  was  about  him  so  much  of  the 
style  of  an  old  soldier  he  could  not  be  a  mere  recruit. 
Altogether,  there  was  enough  in  the  circumstance 
to  mystify  our  two  friends  hidden  in  the  shadow  of 
the  wood  by  the  roadside ;  but  this  puzzle  did  not 
distract  their  thoughts  from  the  principal  doubt  of 
the  moment.  Was  he  alone?  They  soon  felt  sure 
that  he  was,  for  the  road  was  clear  for  several  hun- 
dred yards  behind  him,  and  no  sound  came  from 
that  direction. 

But  deliberation  was  soon  cut  short,  for  just  as 
the  stranger  came  opposite  our  hidden  friends  his 
keen  nag  turned  her  nose  almost  as  if  she  were  a 
pointer  to  Dave  and  Pembroke  in  the  shadow,  and 
she  gave  an  energetic  snort,  and  Pembroke's  horse 
whinnied  an  answer ;  whereupon  the  stranger  drew 
up  suddenly,  and  scanned  for  a  second  that  point 
of  animated  gloom  by  the  wayside ;  but  before  he 
had  resolved  the  doubts  in  his  mind,  or  determined 
a  line  of  action,  Dave  gave  the  word,  and  tlie  two 
charged   together,    and   with    cocked   pistols  held 


OIT  THE   PICKET-LINE.  7 

against  his  head  at  either  side  ahnost  before  he  knew 
it,  he  had  no  discretion.  To  surrender  was  the  only 
possible  course  for  a  rational  creature. 

The  prisoner  now  rode  into  our  lines  between  his 
captors.  His  light-heartedness  was  gone  ;  and  that 
buoyant  gajety  which  had  found  vent  in  the  popu- 
lar refrain  was  replaced  by  a  despondency  so  sudden 
and  deep  as  to  seem  to  old  Dave  almost  unmanly. 
He  thouo;ht  tlie  natural  fortitude  or  bravado  of  a 
youngster — even  if  not  reinforced  by  the  defiant 
spirit  of  an  enemy — should  enable  one  to  face  an 
always  imminent  mischance  with  more  resolution 
than  appeared  in  the  prisoner.  Dave  thought  it 
natural  that  a  soldier  should  be  in  the  dumps  in  such 
circumstances ;  but  to  be  so  terribly  down  as  this  fel- 
low was  seemed  to  him  to  imply  some  more  than 
ordinary  apprehension  :  and  from  that  to  the  notion 
that  it  was  necessary  to  know  particularly  all  about 
this  prisoner  was  not  far. 

"  Why,"  said  Dave,  "  if  you  had  been  taken  as  a 
spy  inside  our  lines,  and  were  to  be  hanged  in  half 
an  hour,  you  could  not  be  more  broken  up." 

"If  it  were  only  facing  death  for  myself,"  said 
the  reb,  quietly,  "  I  am  too  familiar  with  that  ex- 
perience to  heed  it  a  great  deal." 

"  Ah !  then  there  is  more  in  the  case  than  jour 
life  or  death  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Your  capture  concerns  the  welfare  of  others  ?" 

"'  Yes,  sir ;  at  least  of  another." 

Dave's  mystification  was  only  made  deeper.    Was 


8  "AS   WE   WEN"T  MARCHING   ON." 

this  fellow  really  a  spy,  thus  surprised  into  a  half- 
confession,  and  regarding  his  own  fate  as  trivial  in 
comparison  with  tlie  consequences  his  capture  would 
produce  for  his  brigade  or  division  ?  And  what  did 
'^  another"  mean  ?     Had  he  an  accomplice  ? 

Old  Dave,  Pembroke,  and  the  prisoner  went  into 
the  old  man's  tent,  and  the  captive  was  called  upon  to 
give  an  account  of  himself.  The  story  he  told  was 
so  simple  and  covered  the  case  so  completely  that 
the  old  man  was  hardly  satisfied  with  it,  for  his  sus- 
picions once  awakened  were  not  easily  lulled. 

The  prisoner's  name  was  Arthur  "Willoughby,  his 
home  was  near  Front  Royal,  and  he  was  a  soldier  in 
the  rebel  Army  of  l!^orthern  Virginia.  In  the  battle 
of  the  Seven  Pines  he  had  been  engaged  with  his 
regiment  in  the  attempt  to  drive  our  fellows  down 
the  Williamsburg  road ;  but  in  that  action  he  had 
been  wounded  and  taken  to  Richmond.  There  he 
had  been  prostrated  throngh  the  whole  of  June  and 
part  of  July ;  had  finally  got  on  foot,  but  was  yet 
unfit  for  duty;  and  as  Richmond  was  crowded  with 
men  wounded  in  the  later  battles,  he  had  started  for 
his  home,  in  the  hope  to  recuperate  there,  and  had 
stopped  for  some  days,  almost  exhausted,  at  Orange 
Court-house. 

He  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the  immediate 
movements  of  the  Confederate  forces. 

Old  Dave  did  not  believe  this  story,  and  he  said 
severely  : 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  sir,  that  jou,  a  soldier, 
riding  at  night  a  good  nag  such  as  yours,  and  within 


ON   THE   PICKET-LINE.  9 

maybe  ten  or  twenty  miles  of  the  advance  of  Lee's 
army,  have  not  had  the  curiosity  to  inquire  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  even  your  own  regiment?" 

^' Sir,"  said  the  prisoner  with  quiet  dignity,  ^*  since 
you  do  not  beheve  me,  my  own  repeated  declaration 
of  the  same  fact  will  not  convince  you;  but  reason 
on  the  case  from  your  own  stand-point.  You  are  as 
near  to  Lee's  army  as  I  am.  You  have  perhaps 
been  endeavoring  for  some  time  to  ascertain  its  ex- 
act whereabouts.  From  what  you  say  I  judge  that 
you  do  not  know  much  about  it.  If  with  all  your 
efforts  you  have  not  acquired  this  knowledge,  how 
should  I  possess  it,  having  made  no  endeavor  to  gain 
it?" 

"  But  what  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Dave,  ''  is 
that  you  should  have  made  no  such  endeavor." 

"  On  that  side  perhaps  I  am  to  blame,"  said  the 
other.  *'Some  preoccupation  of  mind  that  I  may 
call  domestic  has  too  much  withdrawn  mv  thouo-hts 
from  my  patriotic  duties." 

As  we  soon  knew,  the  preoccupation  thus  referred 
to  was  the  real  point  in  the  case ;  and  what  it  in- 
volved made  friends  for  the  prisoner  in  our  camp. 
But  the  Colonel  got  no  more  out  of  him  that  night. 

All  this  happened,  as  I  said,  on  the  road  that 
ran  across  our  front,  and  which  was  a  few  hundred 
yards  beyond  our  picket-line.  Our  battalion  was 
posted  at  that  time  far  out  in  the  valley  beyond 
Thoroughfare  Gap ;  and  it  was  in  August,  1862, 
when  the  common  trouble  was  for  a  time  that 
everybody  was  posted  in  the  wrong  place. 


10  "AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON/' 

From  the  "Westover  plantation  on  the  James 
River,  from  that  great  fair  field  of  grain  which  was 
so  beautiful  when  we  marched  into  it  on  the  day 
after  Malvern  Hills,  and  which  so  soon  became  an 
almost  bottomless  slongli  of  mnd, — and  a  slongh  of 
despond  it  seemed  for  onr  army, — from  the  ennui, 
and  the  fever,  and  the  heat  of  an  almost  tropical 
summer,  the  boys  had  been  brought  up,  a  brigade 
and  a  division  at  a  time ;  and  from  the  Bull  Run 
mountains  to  Washington  the  State  of  Virginia  was 
pretty  well  peppered  with  them,  except  as  to  points 
where  pepper  was  needed ;  for,  in  the  eyes  of  some 
one  who  did  not  know  us,  it  had  been  deemed  wiser 
to  send  the  army  by  instalments  to  a  new  com- 
mander than  to  send  a  new  commander  to  the 
army. 

How  it  happened  that  our  regiment  had  been  sent 
to  that  point  out  in  the  valley  none  of  us  ever 
knew.  Our  division  was  not  in  that  neighborhood  ; 
neither,  so  far  as  I  know,  was  any  other  part  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  But  it  occurred  often 
enough  in  our  experience  that  when  a  regiment  was 
wanted  for  an  emergency  of  any  sort, — often  also 
only  an  imagined  emergency, — the  nearest  regiment 
to  the  officer  who  imagined  the  emergency  was 
caught  up  and  sent  off  at  race-horse  speed  without 
any  consideration  of  the  way  in  which  that  practice 
disorganized  good  divisions  and  brigades.  So  we 
always  supposed  that  we  must  have  been  some  day 
or  night  too  near  to  a  general  possessed  of  more 
authority  than  he  knew  how  to  use,  and  that  this 


ON   THE   PICKET-LINE.  11 

day  had  been  one  of  those  critical  ones  when  the 
movements  of  two  Union  armies  made  a  military 
phantasmagoria  in  that  part  of  Virginia ;  when 
Lee's  army  was  "lost,"  and  when  the  prevalent 
theory  of  the  military  authorities  was  that  Lee  was 
heading  for  the  Shenandoah  Yalley  by  way  of 
Luray  and  Front  Royal.  Our  duty  had  regard  ap- 
parently to  the  possibilities  of  that  theory  of  the 
enemy's  operations. 

But,  however  it  came  about  that  we  were  sent 
there,  there  we  were. 

Old  Dave,  the  Colonel,  swore  freely,  eloquently, 
and  picturesquely  on  that  occasion,  as  indeed  he 
did  on  nearly  all  occasions.  His  most  memorable 
achievement  in  that  way  was  when  General 
Benham,  the  engineer,  gave  orders  which  required 
him  to  put  his  regiment  across  a  pontoon-bridge  near 
Fredericksburg  left  in  front.  He  swore  then  with 
an  intense  and  loyal  respect  for  tactics  and  the  honor 
of  a  soldier  which  would  have  gained  for  him,  had 
it  been  generally  known,  the  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion of  the  army.  On  this  occasion  he  was  less 
energetic,  but  his  style  always  had  freshness  and 
vigor  in  it. 

"No  chronicler  can  safely  declare  where  Dave  ac- 
quired this  habit  which  so  often  procures  for  a  sol- 
dier his  only  satisfaction.  It  may  have  been  at 
West  Point,  though  that  is  hardly  probable.  More 
likely  it  was  on  the  plains ;  and  yet  there  could  not 
have  been  a  great  deal  to  swear  at  there,  for  in  the  days 
of  Dave's  service  the  Lidians  always  had  the  worst 


12  "as   we   WE:NrT   MARCHING   ON." 

of  it.  There  was  no  doubt  the  usual  proportion  of 
bad  weather  in  that  region,  and  the  common  share  of 
disappointments  due  to  the  delay  of  rations,  mails, 
and  other  comforts ;  bnt  tliese  are  things  that  rather 
give  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  the  habit  once 
formed  than  lead  to  its  original  formation. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  old  man's  instinctive  percep- 
tion of  a  necessary  element  in  military  life.  Old 
soldiers  have  always  sworn  ;  and  what  has  happened 
for  thousands  of  years  in  the  same  occupation  must 
have  some  necessary  I'elation  to  its  moral  moods. 
How  the  army  swore  in  Flanders  everybody  knows. 
Soldiers  cannot  make  peevish  complaint ;  and  they 
cannot  run  away.  They  must  stand  and  face  the 
"cussedness  of  things  "  in  whatever  form  it  comes; 
their  only  resource  is  to  open  iire.  And  whether 
they  open  with  a  field-piece,  or  with  a  sulphurous 
vocabulary,  the  satisfaction  is  the  same  in  kind. 

Despite  his  constant  objurgations  on  the  subject,  an 
isolated  position  was  one  that  suited  very  well  the  taste 
of  the  Colonel;  for  he  rather  preferred  to  live  on  the 
picket-line,  and  was  certainly  to  be  found  at  some 
point  of  it  at  any  hour  when  there  was  a  possibility 
of  a  call  from  the  enemy.  He  always  explored  per- 
sonally every  doubtful  locality  near -his  lines  inside 
and  out,  and  every  individual  picket  was  posted  on 
tactical  and  even  strategic  reasons,  so  that  there 
should  be  the  least  likelihood  of  his  being  found  at 
a  disadvantage  in  a  critical  moment. 

Dave  was  engaged  in  that  way  when  TVilloughby 
was   taken.      Willoughby,   as    hinted^   soon    made 


ON   THE   PICKET-LINE.  13 

friends  in  the  regiment,  and  the  truthful  spirit  of 
his  reflections  upon  the  war  helped  in  that  respect. 
One  of  the  things  that  convinced  us  he  always  told 
the  trutli  was  the  circumstance  that  he  recollected  a 
piece  of  history  which,  unconsciously  to  him,  was 
very  agreeable  to  our  vanity.  His  account  of  the 
Seven  Pines  battle  was  that  the  advance  of  the 
division  he  was  in  was  arrested  and  the  tide  of  battle 
stayed  by  tlie  resistance  of  a  regiment  whicli  held  a 
rail-fence  on  the  ground  immediately  north  of  tlie 
York  River  Raih-oad.  Now,  that  rail-fence  north 
of  the  railroad  was  held  by  our  regiment,  and  we 
consequently  conceived  that  this  fellow's  head  was 
more  than  usually  level. 

But  in  his  repeated  histories  of  that  rail-fence  the 
prisoner  was  always  disposed  to  consider  the  tenacity 
of  resistance  at  that  point  as  due  to  the  cover  which 
the  fence  supplied  to  the  regiment  behind  it,  until 
old  Maltby  said,  in  his  dry,  quaint,  surly  way : 

"Yes,  there's  no  doubt  that  rail-fence  protected 
us — just  as  a  gridiron  protects  a  beefsteak  from  the 
fire." 

Not  much  more  was  said  about  the  fence. 

At  that  time  it  was  not  convenient  to  send  him  to 
the  rear,  and  consequently  Wi  Hough  by  was  kept  a 
close  prisoner  in  a  tent  the  first  night  and  the  next 
day,  and  a  file  of  men  was  told  off  from  the  guard 
to  watch  him. 

None  knew  at  the  moment,  except  the  Colonel  and 
Captain  Pembroke,  what  account  the  prisoner  had 
given  of  himself;  but  we  all  thought  from  the  strict 


14 

way  in  wliicli  he  was  put  under  guard  that  his  story 
had  not  satisfied  the  Colonel ;  and  there  was  much 
speculation  in  regard  to  him.  Who  was  he  ?  What 
was  he?  Was  he  only  an  ordinary  prisoner?  Had 
he  come  over  ?  Was  he  only  a  scout,  and  was  this 
mode  of  putting  him  under  guard  onl}^  played  to 
deceive  possible  spies  of  the  enemy  in  our  lines  ? 
Was  he,  perhaps,  a  spy  himself?  Opinions  and 
theories  of  this  sort  were  commonly  indulged  on 
such  an  occasion. 

Our  prisoner  was  regarded,  in  short,  with  that 
sentiment  of  curious  interest  which  alwa3^s  centres 
about  any  person  who  is  believed  to  stand  in  some 
critical  or  perilous  position,  or  to  be  passing  some 
crisis  of  his  fate. 

If  Willoughby  cared  to  conceal  from  ordinary 
observers  that  chagrin,  apprehension,  or  despair — 
whatever  it  was — that  made  him  so  cast  down  when 
he  was  first  brought  into  camp,  his  close  confinement 
could  scarcely  have  been  disagreeable  to  him ;  but 
he  was,  as  we  subsequently  knew,  a  person  who 
would  have  preferred  it  the  other  wa}^,  and  who 
cared  more  for  sympathy  than  for  his  dignity.  In- 
deed, he  did  not  feel  that  it  was  against  his  dignity 
to  be  an  object  of  commiseration. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    PEISONEJR    AND    HIS    STOKY. 

Toward  nightfall  the  next  day,  the  Colonel,  reas- 
sured by  the  tranquillity  about  us  as  to  any  possible 
connection  between  the  prisoner  and  a  move  of  the 
enemy,  decided  that  it  was  unnecessary  to  keep  the 
young  fellow  under  guard  any  longer ;  so  he  Avas  put 
upon  his  parole  not  to  escape,  and  given  his  liberty 
from  immediate  restraint ;  and  Captain  Pembroke 
invited  him  to  make  himself  at  home  in  his  mess. 

From  that  time  we  saw  him  almost  as  much  as  we 
saw  Pembroke  himself,  for  they  were  a  great  deal 
together. 

Willoughby  was  tall  and  well  made,  with  the 
graceful,  easy  air  of  a  well-bred  man  ;  but  withal 
somewhat  boyish  in  his  open  demeanor,  and  in  the 
readiness  with  which  he  gave  his  confidence  to  any 
one  who  came  near.  In  his  appearance  he  was  a 
Virginian  out  and  out,  for  he  was  sallow  rather  than 
bronzed  by  exposure ;  bony  rather  than  muscular ; 
and  his  hair  was  worn  longer  than  in  the  ITorth  we 
are  used  to  seeing  men's  hair — a  sort  of  affectation 
caught  up,  it  seems,  by  Virginians  from  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  style  of  the  Cavaliers ;  an  artistic  notion, 
perhaps,  of  contrasting  an  effeminate  appearance 
with  the  reality  of  manly  qualities. 


16  ''AS   WE   WEITT  MARCHING   OK." 

He  was  a  light-hearted  fellow,  and  he  came  out 
from  his  gloom  under  the  influence  of  good  com- 
pany. Pie  did  not  recover  himself  entirely  ;  but  the 
gloom  came  upon  him  only  by  fits  and  starts.  He 
would  be  gay,  good-humored,  and  apparently  as 
happy  as  any  one,  taking  an  amused  interest  in 
whatever  was  going  on ;  but  any  occasion  of  tran- 
quillity or  loneliness  that  threw  him  upon  liis  re- 
membrances for  occupation  revived  again  all  the 
poignancy  of  his  chag.rin. 

Between  him  and  Pembroke  there  were  similar- 
ities and  differences  equally  notable.  Pembroke 
was  a  man  of  about  the  same  height  as  Willoughb}^, 
— and  each  was  a  little  short  of  six  feet, — but  the  Cap- 
tain had  the  more  robust  air,  though  he  was  prob- 
ably not  really  any  larger  than  the  other.  His  air 
did  not  belie  him,  in  fact,  for  he  was  a  man  of  almost 
marvellous  physical  endurance.  He  had  clear  blue 
eyes;  a  skin  naturally  rather  fair,  but  bronzed  almost 
to  the  color  of  an  Indian  by  the  exposures  of  cam- 
paigning ;  and  his  brown  hair  was  cut  short.  He 
w\as  the  most  amiable  and  companionable  man  in  the 
regiment — but  also  the  most  reticent. 

Indeed  he  talked  so  little,  and  especially  so  little 
about  himself,  that  we  knew  nothing  of  his  family 
or  historj',  and  therefore  we  imagined  there  was 
some  mystery  in  it. 

Supper  for  his  mess  was  spread  that  night  on  a 
cloth  laid  out  in  front  of  Pembroke's  tent;  and  he, 
the  doctor,  the  chaplain,  and  the  prisoner  ate  to- 
gether. 


THE   PKISOi^'EIl   AND   HIS   STOEY.  17 

Altliougli  the  Captain  was  always  quiet,  and  Wil- 
lougliby  on  this  occasion  diffident  and  shy,  there  was 
never  any  scarcity  of  conversation  where  the  doctor 
and  the  cliaplain  were  met  in  one  place ;  for  they 
were  both  talkative  and  fitted  to  draw  one  anotlier 
out  because  of  a  chronic  j^et  semi-playful  antipatliy 
that  was  always  between  them. 

Willougliby  was,  as  they  sat  down,  just  a  trifle 
startled  at  catching  sight  of  the  form  of  the  table 
upon  which  the  cloth  was  spi-ead ;  for  of  course,though 
the  cloth  hid  the  table,  the  shape  showed  through. 

JSTow  they  spread  tlieir  dishes  on  the  top  of  the 
mess-chess:  but  then  tlieir  niess-chest  was  a  coffin. 
This  may  seem  rather  an  odd  appurtenance  to  be 
used  in  sucli  a  way,  and  may  give  a  false  impression 
of  the  character  of  the  gentlemen  in  that  mess,  as 
making  it  appear  that  tliey  indulged  in  a  sort  of 
braggart  mockery  in  mere  vanity  of  indifference  as 
to  things  that  miglit  be  unpleasant  to  others.  But 
there  was  nothing  like  that  in  it ;  and  if  it  showed 
character  at  all,  it  only  showed  that  like  true  soldiers 
they  always  made  the  best  of  circumstances  and 
were  ready  to  use  what  was  useful  without  prejudice. 
To  "take  the  goods  the  gods  provide"  is  a  good  rule 
in  view  of  the  privations  of  war. 

But  the  fact  came  about  in  a  queer  way,  and  re- 
sulted from  the  thrifty  spirit  of  ]S"orris,  the  private 
who  was  detailed  to  that  mess. 

He  found  this  coffin  on  his  hands  one  day.  Some- 
body had  sent  it  from  the  I^ortli  as  a  proper  recep- 
tacle for  the  body  of  an  officer  killed  at  Hanover 
2 


18  ''AS  WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

Court-house,  and  Norris  had  given  it  shelter  till 
the  body  should  be  obtained.  Bat  the  ground 
where  the  officer  lay  was  within  the  enemy's  lines, 
and  the  coffin  seemed  finally  to  be  abandoned  where 
it  wns  left. 

Norris  carefully  abstracted  the  white  satin  lining 
and  gave  it  to  a  young  woman  in  the  neighborhood, 
who  trimmed  a- new  Sunday  bonnet  with  it ;  and 
into  the  stout  mahogany  box  thus  left  he  packed 
liis  traps  and  stores.  He  found  that  when  he  had 
put  his  frying-pans  and  gridirons  and  dishes,  and 
some  sugar  and  spice  and  other  commodities  there- 
in, they  packed  well  and  did  not  take  up  so  much 
room  as  usual  in  the  old  ambulance- wagon  in  which 
such  things  were  carried;  while  tlius  the  coffin 
itself  was  practically  out  of  the  way,  as  it  became 
a  mere  wrapper  to  necessary  articles. 

And  in  a  spirit  of  true  philosophy  he  said,  "  What 
is  a  coffin  but  a  wrapper,  anyhow  ?" 

In  fact  the  common  name  for  those  things  in  the 
army  was  *'  a  wooden  overcoat." 

And  then  one  day  Morris's  famous  mess-chest  de- 
veloped an  unexpected  virtue  which  gave  it  an  in- 
calculable value  in  the  eyes  of  that  thrifty  soldier. 
In  the  battle  of  the  last  day  of  May,  1862,  our  camp 
was  lost  by  the  failure  of  a  regiment  on  our  left  to 
hold  its  position  ;  and  when  it  was  retaken,  it  was  by 
the  advance  of  another  division  than  ours.  Thus 
the  camp  was  for  four  or  five  hours  in  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  and  for  about  as  long  a  time  in  the  hands 
of  some  fellows  on  our  side  :  and  which  gave  the  most 


THE   PEISOKER   AKD   HIS   STORY.  19 

attention  to  plundering  I  don't  know ;  but  when 
we  liad  time  to  send  some  fellows  there  to  try  and  get 
our  property,  it  was  a  marvellously  cleaned-out  place. 

Blankets,  clothes,  extra  boots  and  shoes,  slippers, 
clean  shirts,  writing-cases,  precious  black  bottles,  all 
the  little  comforts  of  camp-life  were  gone.  But  there 
was  one  thing  there  that  the  plunderers  had  treated 
with  absolute  respect :  ITorris's  mess-kit  was  intact. 
They  had  seen  its  shining  receptacle  with  the  top  well 
screwed  down  ;  they  had  concluded  that  the  owner 
of  it  was  inside,  and  at  home,  and  they  had  left  him 
alone  in  his  glory. 

Norris  was  a  happy  man,  and  he  said,  ''  Anybody 
would  be  a  fool  to  abandon  a  mess-chest  which  by 
its  shape  alone  can  assure  the  safety  of  the  things 
you  put  in  it.  It's  better  than  one  of  those  salaman- 
der iron  safes,  and  nothing  like  so  heavy." 

So  he  rigged  the  cover  with  hinges,  and  they  kept 
their  coffin  and  used  it  for  a  table. 

The  chaplain  caught  the  glance  with  which  Wil- 
loughby  took  in  this  peculiar  feature  of  the  feast, 
and  said : 

"  Yes,  it's  a  queer  shape,  isn't  it  ?  Long  and  nar- 
row, with  odd  protrusions  at  the  sides,  like  the 
shoulder-angles  of  a  bastion  ;  but  nobody  ever  com- 
plains that  it  isn't  roomy." 

"  Somebody  might  complain,"  said  Willoughby, 
'*'  that  it  didn't  improve  his  appetite." 

'•'  True  enough,"  said  the  chaplain  ;  "  but  it  never 
affects  us  in  that  way.  We  are  a  little  like  the  I'ats 
a  farmer  had  up  in  Vermont." 


20  "AS  WE   WENT  MAKCHING   ON." 

"Pet  rats?" 

"  No  ;  opposition  rats." 

"What  did  they  do?" 

"  Well,  they  stole  the  farmer's  cheese  so  persist- 
ently that  at  last  he  had  his  cheese  run  into  moulds 
made  the  shape  of  cats." 

"Because  he  thought  cats  handsome  ?"  said  the 
doctor. 

"  No  ;  because  he  thought  it  would  bluff  off  the 
rats." 

"  Did  it  ?" 

"  Why,  the  rats  would  eat  a  hole  into  one  of  those 
cats  and  live  there.  They  don't  judge  things  by 
superficial  accidents ;  and  that's  why  I  say  we're 
like  'em  :  we  don't  stop  for  trifles  when  it's  feeding- 
time." 

And  so  they  fell  to. 

"  Did  you  hear,  sir,"  said  the  doctor  to  Wil- 
loughby  as  there  came  an  interval — "  did  you  hear, 
sir,  before  you  left  your  lines,  that  the  Northern 
militia  was  in  this  part  of  the  State  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Willoughby,  "  I  did  not  hear  it." 

"  We.  received  some  new  uniforms  a  little  while 
ago,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  we  thought  we  should 
be  reported  for  militia." 

"Mr.  Farrington,"  said  the  chaplain  to  the  doc- 
tor, "  that  is  a  dull  sort  of  joke ;  and  it  would  be 
polite  to  give  the  foe  credit  for  more  accurate  per- 
ceptions." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Willoughby,  with  a  very  cour- 
teous delicacy,  "having  seen  your  battalion  drawn 


THE   PRISOI^ER   AND   HIS   STORY.  21 

up  at  gnard-moiintiiig  to-day,  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  person  with  any  military  experience  would  ever 
mistake  your  men  for  any  other  than  well-seasoned, 
veteran  troops." 

At  this  each  one  of  the  three  instinctively  lifted  his 
tin  Clip  of  spring-water  tinctured  with  commissary 
whiskey,  and  witli  a  quiet  inclination  of  the  head 
accepted  the  pleasant  opinion  as  a  personal  favor. 
With  a  happy  tact  Willoughby  had  reached  the 
liearts  of  all,  and  there  was  good-will  among  them. 

So  they  warmed  into  an  agreeable  comradeship  ; 
and  by  and  by  "Willoughby,  as  he  gathered  that  there 
was  some  curiosity  about  him,  volunteered  informa- 
tion and  told  his  story. 

He  named  his  regiment  again,  and  spoke  with  a 
pride  which  they  appreciated  of  its  qualities  and 
services,  and  told  of  the  enthusiasm  for  freedom 
with  which  he  and  all  his  comrades  of  the  same 
neighborhood  had  taken  up  arms. 

"  Only,"  said  the  chaplain,  "  and  not  to  interrupt 
you,  we  on  our  side  though  we  hear  it  so  often  from 
your  side,  can  never  get  used  to  your  theory  that  it 
is  '  for  freedom '  you  fight,  and  can't  comprehend 
how  you  see  it  that  way." 

'•'  Well,  our  opinions  are  naturally  not  the  same 
on  that  point,"  said  Willoughby. 

'•  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  chaplain.  ''  I  onlj^ 
mentioned  it  as  a  little  difficulty  your  views  give 
us." 

"  Nobody  in  the  world,  I  suppose,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, "can  be  absolutely  sure  that  he  is  riglit  on  any 


22  ''AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

point  whatever.  But  everybody  lias  his  opinion 
that  he  is  right ;  and  when  he  fights,  the  thing  he 
lights  for  is  that  opinion  ;  and  if  he  calls  it  the  right 
instead  of  his  opinion  of  the  right,  he  does  only 
what  all  men  have  always  done." 

"Well,  I  will  accept  that  as  a  statement  of  my 
position,"  said  Willoughby. 

"'And  when  it  has  all  to  be  summed  np  at  the 
last  day,  I  imagine,"  continued  the  Captain,  "  the  true 
point  will  be,  not  which  one  of  a  thousand  varying 
views  was  right,  but  with  how  much  honesty,  coura^ge, 
and  fidelity  each  man  fonght  for  that  which  he  be- 
lieved to  be  the  right." 

"  That  is  a  very  correct  and  philosophical  obser- 
vation," said  the  doctor.  "  E"ow,  then,  for  Mr.  Wil- 
longhby's  story." 

"Well,"  said  Willonghb}',  "before  I  went  to  the 
army  there  had  been  in  my  life  a  delightful  expe- 
rience ;  and  there  was  at  that  period  a  still  more  de- 
lightful vista  for  the  future." 

"  Lady  in  the  case  ?"  said  the  chaplain. 

"Yes,  sir,  that  was  it,"  said  the  Captain. 

"Proves  a  man  to  have  a  healthy  mind  and  to 
be  without  a  cynical  sph'it  to  find  him  in  love,"  said 
the  doctor.  "She  is  of  course  the  most  perfect  of 
her  sex." 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Willoughby,  "'I  can 
hardly  expect  you  to  admit  that,  as  you  would  natu- 
rally have  some  opinions  and  preferences  of  your 
own  on  this  theme  also ;  but  if  your  good  fortune 
had  thrown  you  into  the  part  of  the  country  where 


THE    PRISONER   AKD   HIS   STORY.  23 

I  was  bronglit  up,  and  you  liad  been  brought  into 
relation  with  this  lady  as  you  were  with  the  ladies 
whom  you  love  or  have  loved,  you  would  have 
loved  her  instead  of  these  ladies." 

At  this  they  all  roused  up  somewhat,  and  the 
doctor  said : 

"  Yery  likely,  very  likely ;  but  it's  extremely 
lucky  for  you  that  it  did  not  happen  that  way ; 
since,  for  my  part,  though  I  am  not  a  very  hand- 
some man,  I  am  successful  with  the  women,  and  I 
haven't  the  slightest  doubt  I  should  have  cut  you 
out." 

"Now,  then,"  said  the  chaplain,  "let  us  all  admit 
that  she  is  the  paragon  of  womankind,  and  that 
she  would  have  loved  the  doctor, — and  so  get  on 
wuth  the  story." 

""Well,  there  is  not  much  story  beyond  this," said 
Willoughby ;  "  I  loved  this  lady,  and  the  passion 
was  reciprocated.  We  were  to  be  married,  and  in 
that  delicious  anticipation  lived  through  the  entranced 
days  of  the  months  before  the  war.  Eut  when 
the  war  came,  the  opinions  of  our  friends  were  that 
that  was  not  a  time  for  marrying,  and  I  went 
away  with  my  regiment,  leaving  the  lady  at  her 
home." 

"Well,  she  will  wait  for  yon,"  said  the  Captain. 

"Certainly,"  said  Willoughby;  "but  is  not  wait- 
ing misery?  She  waited  and  waits.  As  I  lay 
wounded  lately  at  Orange  Court-house,  it  was  agreed 
between  our  families  that  since  I  was  now  not  lit  for 
active  service  and  apparently  would  not  be  imme- 


24  "AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON"." 

diatel}^,  and  as  it  was  believed  also  that  the  war 
was  perhaps  over, — for  thejseem  to  have  exaggerated 
the  effect  of  General  Lee's  victories, — it  was  arranged 
on  account  of  these  things  that  I  should  go  to  her 
house  and  that  we  should  be  married  now." 

"And  you  were  on  the  way  the  other  night," 
said  tlie  chaplain. 

"  Just  so.  I  should  have  been  there  by  this  time ; 
and  we  would  perhaps  have  been  married  to-mor- 
row." 

*'  Well,  upon  my  word !"  said  the  chaplain  ;  ''  that 
was  a  misfortune." 

And  "Willoughby  was  comforted  by  the  evident 
and  open  sympathy  of  all. 

"  It  is  only  deferred,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  True  enough,"  said  the  other.  "  But  if  a  tiling 
chances  to  be  deferred  and  deferred,  people  get  a 
superstitious  fancy  that  it  is  never  to  happen ;  and 
who  can  altogether  free  himself  from  such  fancies? 
Besides,  it  is  a  time  of  uncertainty.  Who  knows 
what  may  happen  from  day  to  day  ?  She  may  im- 
gine  that  I  am  killed,  or  even  that  I  have  become 
indifferent." 

"  She  will  have  faith  if  she  is  the  woman  she 
should  be,  and  she  will  be  constant,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "  and  an  old  song  declares  that  absence  makes 
the  heart  grow  fonder.  On  a  point  of  that  nature 
an  old  song  should  be  a  good  authority.  She  will 
not  love  you  the  less  for  these  mishajDS." 

"  Why,  I  do  not  apprehend  that  she  will,"  said 
Willoughby ;  "  but  who  does  not  desire  to  be  with  the 


THE   PRIS0:5^ER  AND   HIS   STORY.  25 

woman  lie  loves?  However  tenderly  lie  may  be  i-e- 
garded  in  his  absence,  a  man  is  always  ready  to 
sacrifice  that  advantage  for  what  he  holds  to  be  the 
greater  one  of  being  with  the  lady." 

Hereupon  the  doctor  and  the  chaplain  rambled 
into  an  extravagant  discussion  as  to  whether  a  man 
perfectly  in  love  did  ever  leave  the  lady  from  the 
conviction  that  she  would  love  him  more  if  he  were 
away  than  by  her  side ;  the  doctor  holding  that  that 
might  be  the  state  of  a  woman's  mind  if  the  chap- 
lain wei-e  the  lover— and  the  chaplain  maintaining 
that  if  the  doctor  were  the  lover  the  woman  would 
necessarily  love  him  so  little  either  present  or  absent 
that  the  difference  would  be  imperceptible;  and 
meanwhile  the  Captain  and  Willoughby  kept  on  a 
quiet  chat  in  interchange  of  such  notions  as  pre- 
sented themselves,  when,  the  supper  being  over,  they 
filled  and  lighted  the  mutual  pipe— an^instrumen't 
which  the  Indians  did  well  to  employ  as  an  apparatus 
for  the  ratification  of  treaties  of  peace. 

They  were  two  fine,  handsome,  generous  fellows, 
and  friendship  grew  between  them. 

Friendship  is  an  indulgence  of  the  inclination  of 
two  souls,  and  is  an  association  without  other  object 
than  the  indulgence  of  such  an  inclination  ;  for 
where  a  relation  of  two  men  has  any  other  or  more 
material  impulse,  it  is  an  interested  alliance  and 
not  a  pure  friendship.  It  seemed  to  me  in  view  of 
this  standard  that  that  was  a  pure  friendship.  They 
would  perhaps  have  been  friends,  meeting  in  any 
circumstances.      But  their  friendship  assumed  a  ro- 


26  "AS   WE   Yv^ENT   MAKCHING   ON"." 

mantic  aspect  duo  to  the  occasion  ;  for  when  natures 
thns  adapted  for  sjmpatli)^  are  nnder  nniforms  of  a 
different  color,  and  the  fact  tliat  tliey  are  foes  by 
tlieir  cause  tliongli  kindred  souls  by  sentiment  is 
ever  before  them,  duty  and  friendsliip  are  equally 
put  to  severe  tests. 

Although  the  Colonel  had  found  it  difficult  to 
believe  Willoughby's  story,  it  seemed  reasonable 
enough  to  all  the  young  fellows  to  whom  Pembroke 
repeated  it.  Dave's  incredulity  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  he  gave  all  Southern  men  credit  for  more 
energy  in  their  cause  than  they  really  possessed. 
Northern  opinion  at  that  time  was  that  the  South 
was  far  ahead  of  us  in  that  respect :  which  was  not 
true,  at  least  not  to  the  extreme  to  whicli  it  was  be- 
lieved. 

But  Dave,  misled  by  that  assumption,  could  not 
believe  that  this  fellow  could  be  on  this  errand  with 
Lee  on  foot  as  he  was  ;  youth  and  a  fellow-feeling 
helped  the  rest  of  us  to  comprehend  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MARCHING    AND   FIGHTING. 

"Within  a  few  lionrs  all  was  movement,  activity, 
and  rnsli  in  onr  camp. 

Stonewall  Jackson  had  slipped  throngli  the  Ball 
Eun  mountains  behind  us ;  for  as  we  were  far  enough 
out  to  keep  our  eyes  on  the  Shenandoah  Yalley,  we 
were  too  far  to  watch  the  route  by  wdiich  he  came  : 
and  that,  moreover,  was  not  our  duty.  But  when  it 
was  discovered  that  Longstreet  was  following  Jack- 
son on  the  same  line,  it  was  plain  that  we  might  be 
cut  off,  and  our  orders  were  to  get  tlirough  the  gap 
in  a  hilrry  ;  orders  which  contemplated  that  we  would 
then  be  in  the  same  position  with  the  whole  army — 
between  Jackson  and  Lons^street. 

Our  right  company  was  on  the  road  in  an  hour 
from  the  time  we  received  these  orders,  and  made 
twelve  miles  before  it  halted,  for  it  was  a  pleasant  part 
of  the  summer  inarch ;  but  we  were  not  all  together 
until  somewhat  later,  for  Pembroke,  wdio  had  the 
left,  was  compelled  to  get  everybody  on  the  road 
ahead  of  him,  and  did  not  march  himself  until  we 
were  half  way  to  our  bivouac.  The  last  news  we 
received  in  that  camp  was  that  Pembroke  had  been 
promoted  and  was  major. 

Willoughby,  on  parole  not  to  escape,  marched 
with  Pembroke. 


28  "as  we  wekt  marching  ok." 

Some  fellows  of  the  cavalry  communicated  with 
our  pickets  near  daylight,  and  reported  to  the  Colo- 
nel that  the  head  of  Longstreet's  column  w\as  north 
of  Orlean,  and  that  if  we  did  not  get  through  Salem 
the  next  day  we  would  find  Longstreet  in  our  way 
when  we  should  reach  that  place.  Consequently 
the  old  man  had  us  out  at  peep  of  day  in  the  liope 
to  get  through  a  good  pull  before  the  sun  came  upon 
us.  None  of  the  struggles  of  a  soldier's  life  is  harder 
than  that  struggle  to  get  his  eyes  open  and  his  head 
upright  when  he  has  not  more  than  half  slept  out  the 
night  that  follows  a  rapid  march  in  the  fine  clear 
air. 

But  we  did  it  then,  as  often  in  other  times  also ; 
and  we  made  a  good  march  that  day,  though  it  was 
a  hot  and  dusty  one,  and  the  men  were  a  little  in- 
clined to  straggle.  It  was  not  the  fault  of  the 
marching,  therefore,  that  when  we  came  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Salem,  in  the  twilight,  there  was  some 
doubt  whether  the  horsemen  we  saw  were  our  cav- 
alry or  the  enemy's.  We  pushed  on,  however,  with 
a  line  of  flankers  south  of  the  place,  and  soon  found 
out  that  the  enemy  was  near ;  for  two  or  three  shots 
gave  the  alarm,  and  presently  our  fellows  in  that  di- 
rection were  popping  away  as  fast  as  they  could 
load  and  fire. 

Perhaps  some  of  us  listened  to  our  hopes  rather 
than  consulted  our  experience  when  we  formed  the 
opinion  that  our  boys  out  on  the  flank  were  wrong, 
and  that  in  the  dim  light  they  had  mistaken  our  cav- 
alry for  that  of  the  enemy. 


MARCHING   AND   FIGHTING.  29 

But  we  soon  got  over  that  fancy,  for  in  a  few  min- 
utes we  lieard,  far  beyond  the  firing,  the  clear  bugle- 
call  "boots  and  saddles,"  and  we  knew  it  was  the 
enemy's  bugle.  Evidently,  therefore,  our  flankers 
to  the  south  of  our  line  of  march  were  in  collision 
with  the  enemy's  cavalry -pickets  ;  those  pickets  had 
reported  us  to  their  main  body  in  the  rear,  and  that 
main  body  was  humping  itself  for  a  row. 

Old  Dave  gave  some  rapid  instructions  to  Pem- 
broke, left  him  in  command,  and  rode  ahead  in  the 
direction  of  our  line  of  march,  evidently  to  see 
what  sort  of  ground  there  was  for  a  fight,  and  how 
we  could  be  handled  to  the  best  advantage.  In 
consequence  of  those  orders  we  were  formed  up  in 
open  column,  and  marched  that  way  until  word 
came  from  the  Colonel,  Tvhen  we  were  double- 
quicked  in  the  same  order  to  a  position  in  an  or- 
chard, to  reach  which  we  went  straight  forward 
through  a  broken  fence,  for  the  road  at  that  point 
obliqued  to  the  right.  As  soon  as  we  were  halted 
we  were  deployed,  and  thus  we  were  in  line  of  bat- 
tle in  a  jiffy,  and  all  w^as  done  as  handsomely  as  if 
on  a  dress-parade. 

Our  line  was  on  very  good  ground,  which  sloped 
away  in  front  so  that  the  apple-trees  below  masked 
us;  and  as  the  road  crossed  our  front  only  about  a 
hundred  yards  away,  there  was  an  obstacle  of 
broken  fences  that  would  hold  the  cavalry  under 
our  tire  for  a  few  minutes. 

Our  flankers,  who  now,  in  fact,  formed  a  skirmish- 
line,  had   all   they  could   do   to   get  in  when  the 


30 


rebel  cavalry  came  with  a  burst.  But  we  were 
ready  for  tliem,  and  gave  them  a  blizzard  that 
emptied  about  twenty  saddles  before  they  knew 
where  the  fire  came  from.  They  were  astonished, 
perhaps,  to  find  a  whole  battalion  here,  and  went 
away ;  but  there  were  plenty  more  behind  them, 
and  these  were  perhaps  ordered  to  find  out  what 
this  meant,  for  in  a  little  while  they  came  again 
stronger  than  before. 

We  gave  them  on  that  second  occasion  all  that 
any  reasonable  cavalrymen  could  possibly  want; 
for  the  boys,  who  had  been  dull  at  the  tired  end  of 
the  march,  were  now  revived  by  this  bit  of  fun,  and 
fired  with  spirit.  Besides,  our  ground  was  so  well 
chosen — we  had  them  so  fairly  before  us  at  the 
road,  and  could  hit  them  so  well  anywhere  on  the 
sweeping  slope  of  the  orchard — that  we  punished 
them  tremendously  without  even  tlie  chance  of  get- 
ting a  scratch  ourselves. 

Naturally  the  enemy  got  tired  of  that  and 
seemed  to  give  it  up ;  and  there  was  one  of  those 
lulls  in  which  the  only  wonder  with  the  boys  is, 
What  next  ? 

Then  there  was  a  good  deal  of  hurrying  and 
skurrying  on  the  enemy's  part,  and  some  of  his 
cavalrymen  pushed  their  way  in  the  dim  light  along 
the  road  across  our  front  to  find  our  right  flank ; 
but  they  never  got  away  again  to  report  what  they 
discovered ;  and  when  a  little  later  their  bugles 
sounded  the  recall,  their  horses,  some  of  them  limp- 
ing, went  away  alone. 


MARCHIN"G   AN'D   FIGHTING.  31 

Old  Dave,  an  instructed,  experienced,  and  thor- 
ougli  soldier,  understood  very  well  that  he  had  to  do 
with  the  advance  of  Lee's  army ;  but  he  counted 
Upon  the  gloom  of  night  as  likely  to  afford  him  a 
chance  to  get  a\^ay,  and  believed  that,  as  the  place 
we  were  in  was  difficult  for  cavalry,  he  could  hold 
it  till  the  time  of  gloom  came.  And  all  passed  as 
he  thought ;  for  though  three  or  four  squadrons  of 
cavalrymen  came  into  the  village,  the  commanding 
officer  surveyed  our  position  very  deliberately,  and 
discreetly  left  us  alone,  satisfied,  perhaps,  that  we 
were  safe  there  till  daylight  and  sure  to  be  his 
game  then. 

And  indeed  the  chances  were  that  the  next  day 
would  be  a  troublesome  one  for  us ;  since,  as  we 
were  really  making  a  flank-march  to  the  enemy's 
advance,  it  was  probable  there  were  as  many  at 
other  points  on  the  road  ahead  of  us  as  there  were 
here,  for  there  were  roads  parallel  to  the  one  by 
which  the  enemy  had  reached  this  place,  and  we 
were  ten  miles  from  the  gap. 

Prospects  were  gloomy,  therefore.  Should  we  be 
caught  here  in  the  morning,  we  must  be  cut  up  and 
forced  to  surrender ;  should  we  push  on,  we  must  ap- 
parently fall  into  the  enemy's  hands  at  another 
point.  And  yet  the  danger  was  not  apparent  enough 
to  authorize  the  blinking  of  our  orders  and  moving 
northward.  Our  only  hope  was  that  a  rest  here  of 
an  hour  would  refresh  us  for  a  rapid  night-march 
in  which  we  might  slip  through  the  enemy's  fingers 
reached  out  to  grasp  us.     We  must  therefore  lull 


32 

his  vio^ilance  somewhat  and  act  as  if  we  intended  to 
stay  here. 

So  the  pieces  were  stacked,  and  the  boys  were 
ordered  to  kindle  iires  and  get  their  coffee  and  make 
themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

At  this  time  the  night-air  was  filled  witli  the  wild 
music  of  the  hungry  mule.  If  the  reader  is  not 
familiarly  acquainted  with  this  animal  and  has  not 
heard  him  call  at  night  for  his  over-due  rations,  he 
is  io:norant  of  the  most  wonderful  noise  that  is  com- 
mon  in  camps — a  noise  that  in  the  tonic  scale  of  a 
soldier's  life  occupies  about  tliree  fourths  of  the 
whole,  the  other  fourtli  being  made  up  of  artillery, 
musketry,  and  brass  bands. 

But  it  is  when  the  rain  and  the  cold  and  a  marshy 
landscape  are  added  to  his  other  discomforts  of  hun- 
ger, weariness,  and  impatience  that  the  mule  does 
himself  full  justice  with  his  voice  and  ^'  shoots  his 
mouth"  with  glory.  He  needs  to  be  in  such  a 
country  as  the  Chickahominy  runs  through,  and  to 
be  about  two  days  ahead  of  the  commissary,  to  be 
raised  to  that  height  of  mulish  passion  in  wdiich  he 
pours  forth  his  whole  soul  mainly  through  his  nose 
in  a  protest  that  startles  the  wilderness  w^ith  insane 
echoes,  which  cannot  tell  whether  tliey  are  answer- 
ino:  the  sneezins:  of  a  locomotive  or  the  hootino^  and 
diabolical  laughter  of  thousands  of  tormented  fiends. 

Now,  we  were  supplied  on  this  march  with  an  un- 
usual number  of  wagons,  which  we  had  had  the 
good  fortune  to  pick  up  on  the  way, — for  all  Virginia 
was  full  of  abandoned  property  of  that  sort,  mostly 


MARCHING   AND   FIGHTING.  33 

our  own, — and  had  about  twenty  mules  ;  and  wlien 
these  mules  began  to  pour  forth  their  hungry  halle- 
lujah, a  good  idea  occurred  to  Dave.  He  sent 
word  immediately  that  the  mules  should  not  be  fed. 
He  then  had  them  driven  in  groups  of  five  be- 
hind the  line  up  and  down  its  length  and  as  far  to 
the  left  and  right  as  the  country  was  clear,  so  that 
their  noise  was  multiplied,  or  distributed  rather: 
and  the  commander  in  front  of  us  was  an  unreason- 
able fellow  if  he  did  not  report  that  there  were 
mules  enough  there  to  haul  rations  and  ammunition 
for  at  least  two  brigades. 

Finally  the  mules  were  fed,  for  it  was  necessary 
that  their  melody  should  be  suppressed  by  a  sense  of 
satisfaction  before  we  began  to  move  again  ;  but  the 
ruse  was  probably  effective,  for  we  were  left  very 
much  to  ourselves.  At  nine  we  were  on  the  road 
again.  It  was  then  pitch  dark,  and  would  apparently 
continue  so,  for  it  was  not  very  clear  ;  and  we  pushed 
forward  as  lively  as  crickets,  and  the  head  of  the 
column  reached  White  Plains  near  midnight.  Pem- 
broke with  the  rear  left  Salem  at  about  ten,  appa- 
rently undiscovered  and  leaving  fires  that  would 
burn  for  two  or  three  hours. 

At  White  Plains  the  intelligent  contraband  put 
in  an  appearance,  and  the  cavalry  straggler  was 
abundantly  present ;  and  from  their  united  sources 
of  information  it  was  but  too  certain  that  the  ene- 
my was  at  Georgetown  and  in  full  possession  of 
the  road  to  the  gap.  The  cavalry  said  that  our 
forces  were  nowhere  near  the  gap  on  the  other  side 


34 

of  tlie  mountains.  All  that  news  was  toiigli  for 
lis. 

From  "White  Plains  there  is  a  road  northward  to 
a  little  place  called  Hopeville  on  the  western  slope 
of  the  hills,  and  at  that  place  there  is  a  road  over  the 
mountain  ;  and  Dave  promptly  decided  to  go  that 
way.  Oar  march  on  this  road  was  through  a  pretty 
bit  of  country  that  under  the  light  of  the  stars  lost 
no  charms  it  had,  and  acquired  some  that  it  did  not 
really  possess  ;  for  it  is  the  peculiar  quality  of  the 
witchery  of  night  that  it  works  in  concert  with  the 
imagination,  and  helps  to  give  to  any  scene  the 
tone  of  our  own  thoughts,  which  the  literal  light  of 
day  with  its  naked  truth  always  contradicts  and  de- 
nies, like  a  bumptious  quidnunc. 

Soldiers  are  practical  enough  when  the  time 
comes,  yet  they  are  also  the  most  sentimental  fel- 
lows in  the  world  ;  and  in  a  scene  like  that  they  will 
cover  five  miles  easier  than  they  will  one  on  a  flat 
road  in  a  swampy  country.  Dave  reached  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  about  dajdight,  and  rested  there,  and  the 
next  day  marched  down  and  succeeded  in  joining  a 
portion  of  the  force  that  was  fooling  around  Stone- 
wall Jackson. 

But  Pembroke  and  his  company  in  the  rear  had 
met  with  a  mischance,  due  to  the  act  of  a  teamster : 
and  it  will  be  conceded  by  every  person  of  experi- 
ence that  a  teamster  is  the  most  certain  type  of  the 
foul  fiend  in  boots.  'Next  to  a  mule,  a  mule-driver 
is  the  least  reasonable  and  tractable,  the  most  ad- 
dicted to  total   depravity,  of    animated  creatures. 


MARCniNO   AND   FIGHTI1?-G.  35 

Nay,  it  is  not  certain  but  the  mule-driver  surpasses 
tlie  mule  himself  in  that,  having  caught  by  associa- 
tion the  perverse  vein  of  that  animal's  inclinations 
and  impulses,  he  applies  that  spirit  of  perversity  with 
the  superior  ingenuity  of  human  nature.  As  the 
impulses  of  teamsters  were  known,  it  did  not  sur- 
prise Pembroke,  nor  the  fellows  generally  in  Com- 
pany H,  when  it  was  discovered  at  dawn  that  the 
rest  of  the  battalion  was  not  ahead  of  them,  and 
that  they  had  been  switched  off  the  road  in  the 
night. 

On  this  march  the  was^ons  had  come  in  the  rear 
of  the  battalion — or  all  of  the  battalion  except  Com- 
pany H,  and  that  company  was  behind  the  wagons, 
with  orders  to  follow  them ;  and  the  duty  of  the 
front  files  of  that  company  was  simph^  to  keep  their 
noses  against  the  liind  wheels  of  the  last  wagon, 
while  the  last  files  trailed  far  behind  in  order  to  give 
the  earliest  intimation  if  the  enemy  should  appear 
in  pursuit.  Dave  had  been  up  and  down  the  line 
from  front  to  rear  a  dozen  times  in  the  first  two  or 
three  hours  ;  but  finding  all  right,  and  having  con- 
fidence in  Pembroke,  he  had  eventually  remained 
quietly  with  the  advance. 

!N"ow,  a  few  miles  north  of  White  Plains  a  road 
turns  to  the  left  out  of  the  Hopewell  road,  and  to 
the  eyes  of  a  teamster,  perverse  as  above  described, 
that  road  had  a  seductive  aspect ;  and  of  his  own 
motion  he  simply,  and  without  a  word  said  to  any- 
body, turned  into  it  from  the  straight  road,  and  thus 
put  astray  everybody  that  was  behind  him ;  nor  had 


36 

those  behind  any  means  whatever  of  knowing  that 
the  continuity  of  the  line  was  broken.  At  day- 
h'ght  this  fellow  excused  himself  by  a  story  that  he 
was  half  asleep  on  his  mule  and  thought  this  was 
the  right  road. 

Company  H  was  thus  in  the  wilderness  of  Yir- 
ginia  alone ;  but  fortunately  one  of  the  wagons  with 
it  had  some  commissary's  stores,  and  the  other  some 
ammunition,  and  there  were  spades  and  axes  in  one 
of  them  also.  *  Some  fellows  were  sent  out  to  sky- 
Uide  around  the  district  and  fetch  in  all  the  darkies 
they  could  find ;  and  the  darkies,  examined  as  to  the 
roads,  cleared  up  the  problem  as  to  where  the  com- 
pany was.  It  was  on  the  road  from  White  Plains 
to  Aldie — a  road  that  reached  the  crest  of  the 
mountains  therefore,  at  a  point  ten  or  twelve  miles 
north  of  where  the  battalion  passed  it ;  and  Pem- 
broke could  not  liear  of  any  roads  that  crossed,  save 
one  many  miles  north  of  where  he  was. 

But  everybody  had  now  been  on  foot  about 
twenty  hours,  and  rest  was  indispensable.  They 
must  sleep  where  they  were.  If  they  moved  by 
noon  and  got  on  that  cross-road  by  night  it  would 
get  tliem  to  Hopewell  next  di\j,  and  the  enemy 
would  probably  then  be  there;  if  they  counter- 
marched expeditiously  by  the  road  they  came  they 
might  march  right  into  the  enemy's  camp. 

There  seemed  no  chance  of  safety  but  to  push  on 
for  Aldie ;  and  to  take  a  good  rest  where  they  were 
was  a  prime  necessity  for  a  rapid  march  to  that 
place. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

BIVOUAC    IN   THE   EAIN BRAXTON    HOUSE. 

Before  sunrise,  that  day,  every  fire  by  which  the 
boys  in  Company  H  had  gone  to  sleep  was  not  only 
dead  out,  but  even  the  little  heaps  of  cinders  and 
ashes  were  beaten  down  level  by  the  pelting  rain, 
which  came  suddenly  and  fell  pitilessly ;  for  far  to 
the  east  of  the  mountain  there  had  been  firing  all 
day  long  the  day  before,  and  the  rarefaction  of  the 
atmosphere  so  produced  had  stirred  a  movement  in 
this  direction  of  all  the  vagabond  vapors,  and  some 
from  the  east,  sailing  low,  had  caught  on  the  ridge 
above  the  heads  of  our  friends,  and  come  down  on 
the  western  slope  like  a  little  deluge. 

How  it  does  rain  when  there  is  war ! 

One  never  knows  how  much  it  rains  until  he  has 
put  on  a  uniform  and  given  up  the  customary 
shelter  of  houses,  omnibuses,  cabs  and  umbrellas, 
and  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  bed,  and  taken  to  the 
woods,  the  roads  and  the  ditches,  and  the  occasional 
lee  side  of  a  haystack,  or  an  outhouse,  w^ith  a  sheet 
of  India-rabber  as  his  only  shelter.  Then,  indeed, 
he  discovers  that  it  rains  always  more  or  less,  and 
that  the  world  is  full  of  the  noise  of  the  pattering 
drops  as  they  beat  on  every  surface  presented,  from 


38  "A3  "WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON"/' 

tlie  great  canopies  of  'green  leaves  to  the  glistening 
India-rubber  cloak  of  tlie  tall  sentry  down  the  road. 

Blessed  be  the  memory  of  the  fellow  who  first 
subdued  to  human  uses  that  noble  gum  which  we 
call  India  rubber!  How  tliey  got  on  with  their 
wars  in  the  ages  before  this  substance  was  spread 
into  blankets,  ponchoes,  cloaks,  and  overcoats  is  a 
myster}'.  Perhaps  they  had  their  primitive  con- 
trivances,— sheepskins  with  the  wool  on,  and  kin- 
dred rain-defying  raiment, — but  all  these  must  have 
been  to  the  India-rubber  coat  much  as  the  bow  and 
arrow  to  a  rifle ;  and  wars  must  often  have  petered 
out  altogether  by  the  mere  intervention  of  rheu- 
matism. 

Here  again  is  a  point  in  which  the  world  does 
but  little  justice  to  its  lieroes.  We  have  heard  of 
the  charges  of  the  Old  Guard,  and  of  its  adamantine 
squares ;  but  how  little  have  we  heard  of  the  rheu- 
matisms it  endured  ! 

Our  fellows  on  the  slope  of  the  mountain  just  lay 
like  fellows  in  the  same  circumstances  from  time 
immemorial,  and  let  the  rain  pelt  itself  out.  On 
ordinary  occasions  of  bivouac,  in  the  absence  of 
rain,  the  soldier  spreads  his  gum  blanket  on  tlie 
earth,  and  lies  upon  that  wrapped  in  his  woollen 
blanket ;  for  then  the  gum  is  a  defence  from  the 
dampness  of  the  earth.  He  keeps  it  between  him 
and  the  enemy,  and  the  enemy  is  on  the  under  side. 
But  when  the  rain  comes, — presto  !  the  enemy  has 
then  developed  himself  in  heavy  force  on  the  other 
side,  and  the  small  assault  of  dampness  from  be- 


BIVOUAC   IIT  THE   RAIN.  39 

neatli  is  no  longer  worth}^  tlionglit.  So  everybody 
changes  position  with  his  bhinket,  doubles  himself 
in  a  little  knot  on  the  earth,  spreads  his  blanket  of 
India  rubber  over  him,  and  sleeps  on,  unconscious 
of  the  little  streams  that  find  their  way  under  the 
edge. 

And  that  was  the  way  they  slept  liere.  All 
along  the  edge  of  the  road  and  in  the  wood  were 
knobby,  irregular  black  spots  with  square  edges, 
made  of  the  spread-out  India-rubber  blankets,  which 
looked  as  if  some  one  had  distributed  on  the  fair 
face  of  nature  rather  plentifully  the  "  beauty-spots" 
of  an  ancient  coquette.  Under  eacli  of  these  lay 
at  least  one  soldier,  and  under  some  two  or  three. 

Pembroke  and  Willoughby  were  better  off  than  the 
others ;  for  at  the  first  tap  of  the  rain  they  had  got 
up  from  the  ground  and  crept  into  one  of  the 
wagons,  and  thus,  though  the  roof  over  their  heads 
was  leaky,  it  was  a  great  improvement  on  the  open 
sky  when  the  whole  visible  heaven  is  like  no  other 
rose  so  much  as  the  rose  of  a  watei-ing-pot. 

Eeveille  was  sounded  at  about  nine,  and  tliat 
cheery  medley  of  quaint  old  musical  themes  en- 
livened the  wet  camp  a  little.  But  the  boys  came 
up  slowly  ;  for  though  one  might  suppose  tliat  such 
uncomfortable  beds  would  be  abandoned  with  alac- 
rity, it  commonly  proves  otherwise.  In  truth,  fel- 
lows have  to  get  themselves  up  from  the  wet  earth 
by  instalments,  and  with  care  as  to  the  kinks  in 
their  backs;  for  if  they  didn't  take  these  kinks  in 
their  right  and  appropriate  succession,  they  might 


40  "AS   WE   WENT  MARCHING  ON.'' 

get  themselves  in  a  snarl.  It  is  a  point  related  to 
meclianical  science  to  get  up  successfully  when 
every  half-inch  of  your  length  is  the  seat  of  a  sep- 
arate rheumatism. 

Fires,  also,  were  slow.  It  was  near  noon  be- 
fore the  company  was  on  foot,  and  it  had  only 
marched  about  four  miles  ere  it  came  to  a  wide 
mountain-torrent  w^hich  crossed  the  road  at  right 
angles  between  steep,  craggy  sides,  and  over  which 
there  was  no  bridge.  That  important  structure  had 
been  destroyed  on  some  critical  occasion  in  some 
former  retreat.  'Now,  the  boys  could  have  been  put 
over  this  obstruction  on  a  single  timber,  which  any 
one  of  the  tall  trees  about  them  would  have  sup- 
plied. But  the  mules  and  wagons  needed  a  bridge ; 
consequently  Pembroke  was  again  tempted  to  aban- 
don these  wagons,  as  he  had  been  upon  the  first 
discovery  of  his  unpleasant  position,  and  at  the 
thought  that,  but  for  them,  he  could  perhaps  rejoin 
the  columu  in  a  few  hours  by  a  march  across  the 
country. 

But  the  abandonment  of  material  is  defeat,  and 
the  point  of  pride  involved  controlled  him.  He  de- 
cided he  would  build  a  bridge.  Consequently  the 
few  axes  were  out,  and  the  whole  company  was  soon 
busy  at  this  wet  labor.  Half  a  dozen  chestnuts,  that 
made  forty-foot  sticks,  were  chopped  and  trimmed 
in  an  extremely  little  while;  for  the  tradition  of 
George  Washington  has  descended  to  the  nation, 
and  every  boy  is  born  with  a  little  hatchet  in  his 
hand,  which  he  earl 3^  changes  for  the  more  effective 


BIVOUAC   IN   THE   RAIN".  41 

axe ;  and  our  fellows  were  experts  with  woodman's 
tools. 

And  as  the  men  with  the  axes  went  on  and 
dropped  the  trees  pointed  out  to  them,  the  others 
carried  to  their  places  those  already  down.  Only 
one  serious  difficulty  presented  itself,  which  was 
the  placing  the  first  timber  across  the  chasm.  We 
overcame  that  in  this  way :  All  the  mule-traces  fas- 
tened together  made  a  sling,  which  was  rove  over 
the  branch  of  an  old  chestnut  that,  growing  at  the 
banks  of  the  stream,  had  grown  well  out  across  it,  so 
that  one  long,  lieavy  limb,  about  twenty  feet  above 
our  heads,  seemed  like  a  giant  arm  reached  out  to 
help  us.  With  the  sling  passed  over  that  and  one 
end  fastened  about  the  middle  of  our  first  timber, 
the  boys  hove  away  on  the  other  end  of  the  sling, 
and  as  the  weight  of  the  timber  was  thus  suspended, 
a  baby  could  almost  have  put  it  in  its  place.  We 
cheered  that  little  achievement  with  much  spirit, 
because  to  some  of  the  fellows  this  had  seemed  an 
insuperable  obstacle,  as  we  seemed  to  be  without  ma- 
chinery; though  others  knew  that  tlie  Major's  in- 
genuity was  always  equal  to  such  difficulties. 

Other  timbers  were  run  out  on  that  one  and  put 
in  their  places.  Four  were  thus  put  at  intervals 
across-stream,  and  then  lighter  ones  across  these,  till 
a  roadway  was  made;  and  on  this  roadway  was 
spread  a  thick  carpet  of  pine  twigs,  held  in  place  by 
wet  clay  thrown  liberally  from  either  side. 

Much  of  the  afternoon  had  been  consumed  in 
this  labor ;  and  when  the  command  w^as  over  and  the 


42 

bridge  destroyed  again,  only  a  short  marcli  was 
made  beyond  ere  the  night  came;  and  though  the 
rain  then  no  longer  fell,  the  roadway  was  flooded, 
and  the  chance  to  make  distance  on  such  a  route 
without  daylight  was  very  liopeless.  Therefore 
the  company  was  halted  for  the  night,  in  the  ex- 
pectation that  a  good  rest  and  an  early  start  w^ould 
prove  more  advantageous  in  the  end. 

Ne:xt  day  a  good  march  was  made,  and  the  pros- 
pect was  that  the  command  would  get  east  of  the 
nlountain  that  night. 

Meantime  events  had  gone  forward  rapidly  in  that 
eastern  valley.  Stonewall  Jackson  had  not  been 
crushed  as  he  might  have  been  by  the  whole  weight 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Between  incapacity 
and  indecision  that  opportunity  had  slipped  away. 
Other  corps  of  Lee's  army  had  succeeded  in  joining 
him;  and,  admirably  handled  by  their  commanders, 
the  liardy  tatterdemalions  of  the  Confederacy  had 
made  another  tough  day  for  our  boys  at  what  was 
called  the  second  Bull  Eun  battle.  Once  more  the 
people  in  Washington  were  gratified  with  a  battle 
in  wdiich  the  possession  of  the  city  seemed  at  stake, 
and  which  was  gained  by  the  Southern  troops ;  for 
this  result  pleased  the  people  of  the  place,  who  were 
all  in  sympathy  with  the  South,  and  it  gladdened 
some  men  in  the  government  who  secretly  lioped 
the  rebels  might  get  Washington  and  destroy  it,  so 
that  a  Northern  city  might  become  the  seat  of  the 
national  government. 

As  a  result  of  that  battle  the  wliole  Union  army 


BIVOUAC    IN   THE    RAIK.  43 

moved  in  precipitate  retreat  upon  its  base ;  and 
the  wliole  Southern  armj,  sweeping  forward  to  the 
invasion  of  Maryland,  filled  the  valley,  and  part  of 
its  cavalry  was  actually  at  Aldie  on  the  afternoon 
when  Pembroke  was  hastening  toward  that  place 
up  the  western  side  of  the  mountain. 

Fortunately  this  was  discovered  before  our  boys 
got  within  reach  of  that  cavalry. 

'•  Contrabands"  came  in  with  the  information. 
They  generally  did  in  cases  of  that  nature.  South- 
ern people  wdio  suppose  that  the  negro  was  faithful 
to  slavery,  and  !N"ortliern  people  who  suppose  he  did 
nothing  to  help  us  out  in  the  war,  never  reflect 
what  it  was  to  have  always  near  a  people  who  sur- 
rounded the  enemy  like  flies,  and  could  come  away 
as  unnoticed,  and  come  into  our  lines  and  tell  the 
fact  it  was  supremely  necessary  for  us  to  know. 

As  soon  as  it  was  positively  known  that  this  report 
was  true,  Pembroke  determined  to  try  and  reach 
AVinchester,  in  the  expectation  that  a  resolute  effort 
would  be  made  to  hold  that  place,  and  that  he  could 
get  there  before  it  should  be  abandoned.  But  this 
cavalry  at  Aldie  might  be  in  the  way  there  also, 
and  he  understood  that  he  must  avoid  highroads  and 
would  not  be  secure  for  a  moment  till  he  got  to  the 
Blue  Kidge. 

He  had  at  least  fifteen  miles  before  him,  and 
hoped  to  make  it  by  noon. 

Fortunately  the  region  is  a  good  marching  country 
and  a  mesh  of  by-roads  ;  so  that  if  there  seemed  any 
likelihood  of  danger  from  the  cavalry,  the  command 


44 

could  be  easily  pat  out  on  a  by-road  and  lose  little 
if  any  time  with  regard  to  its  route ;  while  if  driven 
altogether  to  one  side  from  the  road  to  Ashby's 
Gap,  which  was  the  shortest,  it  could  get  through 
at  Snickers. 

We  made  that  run  for  Winchester  with  a  rush. 
There  Avas  some  pleasure  in  it  also  ;  for  on  those 
picturesque  roads  between  pleasant  corn-fields  and 
reaches  of  woods  that  were  not  altogether  a  wilder- 
ness, we  were  in  a  country  then  little  touched  by 
the  war :  and  this  was  a  ti'eat  to  us.  There  were  not 
only  larger  green  apples  than  we  found  elsewhere, 
but  there  w^ere  other  unusual  dainties. 

Whenever  a  country  has  been  torn  up  by  war, 
every  pleasant  addition  to  daily  diet  that  might  be 
bought  at  a  farm-house  is  gone,  and  the  very  land- 
scape itself  is  a  ghastly  scene  of  standing  chim- 
neys from  which  the  houses  they  belonged  to  have 
been  burned  aw^ay.  Even  the  fences  have  been 
turned  into  fire  wood. 

Merrily  enough,  therefore,  we  went  on,  for  troops 
that  move  through  a  picturesque  country  in  pleasant 
weather,  without  unreasonable  disquiet,  and  with 
just  enough  consciousness  of  the  enemy  to  keep  up 
an  easy  alert,  have  the  picnic  side  of  campaigning 
life.  ITobody  grumbled,  therefore,  that  that  day's 
march  was  kept  on  beyond  the  time  of  ordinary 
marches,  and  that  the  deepening  shadows  of  the 
twilight  found  us  still  on  foot. 

All  that  day  Willoughby  had  been  different  from 
what  he  had  been  in  the  few  days  our  fellows  had 


BRAXTON   HOUSE.  45 

seen  liiiii.  He  was  extravagantly  gay  or  lapsed  into 
continued  silence.  He  was  anxious,  eager,  uneasy, 
nervous.  This  difference  had  caused  some  quiet 
comment  in  the  ranks ;  and  once  when  they  were 
hidden  in  the  woods,  old  Maltby  had  almost  un- 
consciously kept  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  within 
about  a  foot  of  Willoughby's  head  for  half  an  hour. 
"Willoughby  might  by  a  shout  have  brought  a 
crowd  in  on  us,  but  he  would  never  have  shouted 
again. 

It  was  at  Willoughby's  suggestion  that  the  last 
turn  had  been  made  which  had  brought  us  upon  the 
pleasantest  road  yet  seen.  It  was  a  turn  aside  from 
the  straight  route  over  the  mountains,  and  it  ran 
through  a  district  which  perhaps  owed  its  immunity 
from  war's  ravages  to  the  fact  that  it  was  quite 
apart  from  any  highroad  that  led  to  any  important 
point.  Several  times  since  we  had  entered  this 
region,  which  was  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  Pem- 
broke had  been  on  the  point  of  ordering  a  halt  for 
the  night ;  but  each  time  Willoughby  had  persuaded 
him  to  keep  on  a  little  yet,  on  the  promise  of  some 
pleasant  hospitality  just  a  few  miles  ahead. 

"  Some  friends  of  mine  live  on  this  road ;  and  if 
we  can  pass  the  night  near  them,  there's  not  only 
good  '  chicken-fixin's '  in  the  kitchen  for  us,  but  also 
a  good  bottle  of  wine  in  the  cellar." 

Such  was  the  promise  Willoughby  had  made  sev- 
eral times  that  afternoon  ;  and  it  presented  a  great 
temptation  to  the  mind  of  Pembroke,  as  the  reader 
will  readily  understand  if  any  considerable  part  of 


46  "AS   WE   WE^^T   MARCHING   ON." 

his  life  has  been  filled  with  the  monotonous  diet 
of  salt-horse  and  hard-tack,  moistened  only  with 
the  warm  water  that  dribbles  down  the  Virginia 
ditches,  or  with  the  same  water  turned  into  an  acrid 
decoction  of  camp  coffee. 

Pembroke  was  just  beginning  to  doubt  whether 
duty  toward  the  men  and  his  own  inclination  were 
not  in  opposition — whether,  in  fact,  he  was  justified 
in  pushing  this  march  farther  in  order  to  procure  a 
trivial  treat  of  good  rations  for  himself — when,  be- 
hold 1  the  goal  was  before  them. 

They  were  full  in  front  of  Braxton  House,  and  a 
pleasant  surprise  it  was. 

Beyond  a  lawn  so  wide  and  spacious  that  it  was 
rather  an  upland  meadow  than  a  lawn  arose  the 
rarest  of  all  sights  in  the  State  of  Yirginia,  a  really 
fine  house  ;  a  structure  whose  various  additions  and 
attachments  rambled  away  into  the  comfortable  cir- 
cumstances of  a  farm,  but  which  presented  in  the 
foreground  the  stately  proportions  and  design  of  a 
mansion  where  wealth  and  taste  might  find  them- 
selves in  a  congenial  home. 

Virginia  houses  are  as  a  rule  monotonous  struc- 
tures. There  has  come  down  to  us  from  tlie 
colonial  days  a  tone  of  romantic  reference  to  the 
splendor  of  life  in  the  Old  Dominion,  which  we  in 
the  war  found  to  be  the  most  baseless  of  fictions ; 
for  the  common  centre  of  life  in  the  sunny  South 
is  a  ground-floor  of  two  or  three  square  rooms,  with 
a  kitchen  in  a  "  lean-to  ;"  three  or  four  cramped  bed- 
chambers in  the  one  upper  story ;  and  a  piazza  across 


BRAXTON   HOUSE.  47 

tlie  front  of  the  liousc — good  Iiomcs  for  the  people, 
but  not  things  to  glorify  in  an  architectural  sense. 
Men  and  women  were  happy  in  those  houses.  Grand 
boys  were  bred  there  ;  and  on  the  pleasant  piazzas  in 
the  moonlight  nights  lovely  girls  listened  with 
happy  delight  to  the  old,  old  storj^  But  with  all 
that,  they  were  a  disappointment  to  fellows  who  had 
gathered  somehow  in  the  atmosphere  of  our  histoiy 
a  notion  of  Virginia  as  the  place  of  a  more  glorious 
kind  of  existence. 

Braxton  House  was,  however,  one  of  the  fine  ex- 
ceptions; and  its  harmonious  proportions  and  the 
good  effect  of  its  form  and  position  filled  the  be- 
holder with  pleasure  ;  and  in  that  house  and  in  the 
grounds  about  it  one  might  easily  enough  imagine 
could  have  been  passed  such  days  of  baronial  splen- 
dor as  the  Southern  romancers  dwell  upon. 


CHAPTEE  y. 
"chicken  fixings"  and  a  plot. 

As  soon  as  Company  H  came  into  view  beyond 
tlie  little  curtain  of  woods  between  the  house  and 
the  road  below  it,  a  sort  of  far-away  animation  be- 
came visible  about  the  house.  Chickens  started  in 
an  instinctive  stampede  for  refuge,  putting  their 
length  to  the  earth  in  a  long  desperate  lope ;  some 
pigs  that  had  been  loose  in  the  wood  beside  the 
house  snorted  and  hustled  away  through  the  low 
buslies,  having  heard  no  doubt  that  we  were  fond  of 
fresh  meat ;  half  a  dozen  dogs  bayed  heavily  from 
unseen  kennels;  and  old  aunties  and  uncles  hobbled 
out  from  their  hiding-places,  and  queer  little  picka- 
ninnies peeped  around  the  corners  of  shanties  and 
pigpens  and  garden-gates. 

"Word  spread  through  the  house  that  the  **  Linkum 
sojers"  were  near,  and  more  than  one  soul  was  filled 
with  dismay  at  this  confirmation  of  the  news  already 
abroad  in  that  region  to  the  effect  that  this  district 
was  once  more  the  seat  of  war.  Dr.  Braxton,  his 
sister,  and  his  daughter  Phoebe  went  to  front  win- 
dows to  survey  the  scene.  Phoebe,  quicker  than  the 
others,  caught  sight  of  "VYilloughby  on  the  lawn,  and 
in  another  moment  the  bolts  of  the  front  door  were 


**CHICKEN^   fixings"   AND   A   PLOT.  49 

drawiL  with  nervous  haste,  and  Phoebe  rnshed  into 
tlie  arms  of  Willoughbj,  ah-eadj  on  the  piazza. 

Now,  this  was  the  fair  lady  to  marry  wdipm  Wil- 
longhby  had  been  on  his  -way  when  taken  ;  and  his 
tempting  offer  of  pleasant  hospitality  for  the  Major 
was  therefore  not  entirely  unrelated  to  his  own  de- 
sires and  anxieties ;  for,  to  do  liim  simple  justice,  it 
must  be  said  that  he  was  not  more  moved  by  the 
wish  to  see  his  sweetheart  than  by  his  eagerness  to 
calm  the  inquietude  that  had  been  caused  by  his 
failure  to  appear  at  the  time  he  was  looked  for. 

How  warm  was  his  welcome  may  be  imagined,  as 
well  as  the  sentiments  then  indulged  toward  us. 

While  Willoughby  with  his  friends  inside  ex- 
plained the  mystery  of  his  failure  to  come  at  the 
time  he  was  expected,  Pembroke  formed  the  camp 
at  the  lower  slope  of  the  wide  lawn,  near  the  little 
street,  and  posted  pickets  up  and  down  the  road  and 
behind  the  house  toward  the  mountain  ;  for  he  did 
not.  imagine  that  our  march  would  remain  indefinite- 
ly unknown  to  the  enemj^,  and  he  considered  trouble 
possible. 

Fires  were  cracked  up  in  a  marvellously  short 
time  ;  for  the  first  thought  in  such  a  halt  is,  not  rest, 
but  cookery. 

Between  eight  and  nine,  Pembroke  and  Wood, 
the  lieutenant,  the  only  other  commissioned  officer 
with  us,  were  invited  into  the  house  to  "take  a 
meal." 

Having  made  a  hasty  toilet  down  by  the  stream, 
they  were  ready  when  the  word  came,  and  moved 
4 


50 

with  alacrit}^  They  were  shown  into  tlie  dining- 
room,  which  opened  upon  one  end  of  tlie  piazza  and 
had  heen  planned  witli  a  view  to  a  lai-ger  family  than 
usually  sat  in  it.  There  was,  due  perhaps  to  its 
deep-colored  mahogany  and  its  heavy  simplicity,  an 
old-fashioned  style  about  it,  very  agreeable  and  quiet, 
and  not  fitted  to  distract  attention  from  what  was  on 
the  table. 

Everybody  was  there :  old  Dr.  Braxton  himself, 
an  acute  man  whose  keen  face  was  softened  by  the 
effect  of  his  gray  hair,  and  who  was  a  better  man 
than  he  pretended  to  be  ;  Aunt  Hetty  Chichester, 
an  irrepressible  old  rebel;  and  the  beautiful  Miss 
Phoebe,  with  happy  Willoughby  near  her.  The 
neat  colored  girls  were  trim  in  their  best  calicoes, 
and  Aunt  Hetty's  best  "  chany"  teacups  were  drawn 
up  in  column  of  companies. 

''  We  should  be  well  pleased,  gentlemen,"  said 
Braxton,  coming  forward  with  a  ceremonious  air, 
"  if  we  could  give  you  a  welcome  and  a  treat  that 
would  make  you  forget  the  fatigues  of  such  a  day." 

They  both  said  they  were  sure  of  his  good-will, 
and  equally  confident  of  his  ability  to  give  it  effect ; 
and  then  there  were  ceremonious  presentations  all 
around,  and  they  sat  down. 

In  view  of  all  the  circumstances,  the  Major  and 
Wood  could  not  but  consider  their  welcome  warm. 
They  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  the  others  were 
those  whom  the  fates  intended  should  be  happy,  and 
that  they  themselves  were  the  villains  of  the  drama ; 
The  representatives  of  evil  destiny  that  stood  in  the 


'^CniCKEN   FIXIiq-GS '"   AND   A   PLOT.  51 

way  of  the  fulfilment  of  all  pleasant  hopes.  And 
the  Major  said : 

"  Certain!  7  it  is  generous  for  you  to  be  able  to 
see  us  with  any  equanimity  whatever." 

"  Why,"  said  Aunt  Hetty,  peceiving  quicker  than 
the  others  that  Pembroke  was  thinking  of  his  un- 
pleasant relation  as  the  inconvenient  enemy,  "we 
know  that  war  is  war,  and  that  no  gentleman  would 
spoil  sport  if  he  could  help  it." 

"We  are  very  glad  indeed  that  you  appreciate 
the  case  so  accurately,"  said  Pembroke.  While  the 
fair  Phoebe,  with  just  a  trace  of  timidity,  turned  a 
glance  of  deprecation  toward  Aunt  Hetty,  possibly 
in  fear  that  that  bold  orator  might  go  farther  than 
was  desirable  in  the  statement  of  the  delicate  posi- 
tioD. 

"  We  understand,"  said  Dr.  Braxton,  "  that  when 
gentlemen  are  sworn  to  a  cause  they  cannot  put 
their  casual  inclinations  in  the  balance  against  it." 

"  We  know  that  you  would  not  have  stopped  our 
boy  if  you  could  have  acted  on  your  own  im- 
pulses," said  Aunt  Hetty. 

"Shall  I  give  you  coffee,  sir?"  interrupted  Phoe- 
be from  her  vantage-ground  behind  the  grand  ar- 
ray of  white  and  rose-colored  porcelain,  and  in  a 
voice  indescribably  musical  and  sympathetic. 

Pembroke  thought  he  would  take  some  coffee 
later,  and  would  for  the  moment  cultivate  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  wine,  which  was  an- 
nounced as  Madeira,  and  which  they  naturally 
thought  should  be  old  Madeira. 


52  '^AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

Dr.  Braxton  said  it  was  old  Madeira,  "  part  of  the 
cargo  of  a  sliip  lost  on  Hatteras  about  the  time  of 
the  revolution." 

Aunt  Hetty  hoped  that  Madeira  was  not  so  fatal 
to  men  as  it  appeared  to  be  to  ships.  She  had 
never  heard  of  any  that  did  not  come  from  a  wreck. 

So  the  Madeira  went  round — a  liquid  topaz  in 
its  cut-glass  receptacle ;  for  the  doctor  was  an  old- 
fashioned  man  and  decanted  his  wine.  He  regarded 
the  time-stained  label  and  the  dust- coated  bottle  as 
the  contrivances  of  a  vulgar  period  which  demanded 
other  guarantees  of  the  age  of  wine  besides  a  gentle- 
man's word  and  the  wine  itself. 

And  thus  they  steered  safely  away  from  themes 
that  were  always  difficult  and  dangerous  in  compa- 
nies so  made  up.  It  was  the  standard  evening  meal 
of  the  times ;  a  culinary  glory  that  everybody  loved 
to  come  upon.  There  was  but  one  dish-^a  frica- 
seed  chicken  with  cream  sauce ;  but  that  and  the 
company  together  made  a  festival. 

Pembroke  was  especially  interested  in  the  quiet 
observation  of  AYilloughby's  fiancee.  Toward  Pem- 
broke her  air  was  one  of  gracious  and  amiable 
indifference,  in  v/hich  there  vv\is  no  sacrifice  of  po- 
liteness, but  from  which  one  feels  what  an  immeas- 
urable distance,  in  the  lady's  eyes,  there  is  between 
himself  and  a  happier  man.  In  this  the  Major  saw 
only  the  fair  damsel's  devotion  to  her  one  ideal,  and 
the  disposition  of  a  true  woman  not  to  care  par- 
ticularly to  shine  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  men  she 
might  meet. 


53 

Wood  was  that  human  wonder,  a  silent  Irish- 
man. Silent  ordinarily,  that  is ;  but  when  the  bottle 
had  passed  and  repassed  between  him  and  Braxton, 
till  thej  seemed  like  two  fellows  in  the  line  of  bat- 
tle using  the  same  ramrod,  he  became  fluent,  and 
the  bravery  of  Southern  men  was  the  topic. 

"The  Confederate  soldier,"  he  said,  "makes  a 
great  deal  of  nyse  when  he  fights;  but  he  tights 
well,  and  against  any  troops  but  ours  he  would  be 
a  conqueror."  This  he  said  with  his  deliberate 
drawl,  mth  a  pause  between  each  word,  and  a  slow 
utterance,  as  if,  being  a  man  of  few  words,  he  would 
make  them  go  as  far  as  possible. 

Braxton's  vocabulary  was  also  thawed  out,  and 
they  became  a  gay  and  cheery  party  and  forgot  in 
the  pleasures  of  the  hour  both  yesterday  and  to-mor- 
row ;  but  this  was  after  the  Madeira-bottle  had  been 
relieved  two  or  three  times.  They  lingered  long  at 
the  table, — as  who  would  not  if  his  ordinary  fare  was 
"salt  horse"  by  the  wayside? — and  then  they  ad- 
journed to  the  piazza. 

By  and  by  there  was  an  almost  imperceptible 
distribution.  Wood  went  down  to  the  camp;  the 
doctor  disappeared  entirely;  Phoebe  and  Wil- 
lougliby  sat  together  in  that  obscure  part  of  the 
piazza  embowered  by  the  heavy-growing  vines;  and 
Aunt  Hetty  seized  upon  Pembroke  with  the  will 
of  one  who  has  not  met  a  conversational  creature 
for  many  a  day,  and  rattled  at  him  her  whole  bud- 
get of  stored-np  fancies. 

"  It  is  my  opinion,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  that  men 


64  "AS   WE   WENT  MA.RCHING   ON/' 

are  women  with  the  emotions  left  out.  What  do 
you  say  to  that  ?" 

''Perhaps  tlie  thought  is  just;  but  I  should  have 
stated  it  from  another  point  of  view." 

"As  life  is  a  show,  and  we  sit  at  the  windows 
and  look  out  upon  it,  one  person  only  can  occupy 
one  place ;  therefore  everybody's  point  of  view  is 
different.     But  come,  what  is  yours?" 

''Well,  I  should  say  that  women  are  men  with 
the  emotions  added." 

"  That  is  different,  and  yet  the  same.  It  disputes 
which  is  the  standard  type,  but  admits  my  account 
of  the  essential  variation.  But  now,  on  your  honor 
as  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  is  not  that  addition 
the  one  point  that  gives  all  the  value?" 

"Aunt  Hetty,"  said  Pembrohe, — for  in  the  frolic- 
some humor  of  the  moment  they  had  caught  up 
this  familiar  family  style, — "you  are  making  this 
case  very  difficult.  Only  a  few  moments  since  you 
reasoned  with  me  on  a  metaphysical  basis ;  now  yon 
appeal  to  my  honoi-  as  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier  for 
my  opinion  about  the  ladies." 

"No,  sir;  about  woman:  and  this  is  an  evasion. 
But  how  do  these  characters  differ  as  to  truth  ?" 

"  Well,  a  metaphysician  cannot  regard  the  poeti- 
cal side  of  the  case,  and  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier 
must  regard  that  side  mainly." 

Resolute  not  to  have  any  nonsense  in  this  con- 
versation, yet  a  little  cajoled  by  the  Major's  tone, 
she  said  : 


"cHicKEisr  fixings"  and  a  plot.  55 

**Well,  then,  resolve  the  doubt  in  any  of  tliese 
characters." 

''In  all  of  them,"  said  the  Major.  "From  the 
stand-point  of  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  jour  view 
of  the  value  of  the  emotions  is  accurate.  They  are 
the  most  precious  pai-t  of  the  most  precious  creature. 
But  a  philosopher  would  probably  say  they  are  an 
addition  a  little  like  tliat  of  one  more  in  a  boat  al- 
ready perilously  full." 

"Well,  they  do  swamp  it  sometimes.  But  I'll 
tell  you  this  :  there  never  was  a  first-rate  gentleman 
in  the  world  who  was  not  possessed  in  a  great  de- 
gree of  this  feminine  attribute.  "What  I  under- 
stand people  to  mean  when  they  say  a  man  has 
heart  is  that  he  is  in  a  great  degree  under  the  in- 
fluence of  his  emotions." 

"  Well,  it  perhaps  means  that,  if  anything,"  said 
the  Major. 

"  It  means  that,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  The  morali- 
ties and  intellectualities  and  what  not,  are  so  many 
endeavors  to  root  out  our  merely  human  impulses, 
as  if  those  were  weeds  in  the  garden  and  we  wanted 
all  the  room  for  those  rare  plants.  If  we  succeed 
in  this  weeding,  we  make  of  a  gay,  good-hearted 
youngster  one  of  those  correct,  intolerable  creatures 
like  the  good  boys  in  Sunday-school  romances.  'No- 
body is  endurable  to  me  who  has  not  in  him  a  spice 
of  what  the  world  thus  treats  as  vice,  for  the  burst 
of  evil  now  and  then  shows  that  the  old  human 
fountain  has  not  gone  dry.  How  I  do  adore  Faust ; 
and  Goethe,  who  had  the  courage  to  make  human 


56 

weakness  the  basis  of  licroisin  !  For  to  me  it  seems 
tlie  final  test  of  a  man's  courage  that  he  dare  go 
anywhere  to  satisfy  tlie  impulses  that  are  in  him." 

"  Well,  that's  going  a  great  way,"  said  the 
Major. 

"  Not  very ;  indeed,  if  it  were  a  longer  journey 
more  would  travel  that  way.  People  arrive  at 
Faust's  goal  too  soon.  The  compensations  of  the 
waj'side  are  therefore  not  an  equivalent  for  the  end. 
Every  hour  of  the  weary  days  we  sit  here,"  said  the 
old  lady,  suddenly  changing  her  tone,  ''  and  won- 
der what  is  to  happen.  I  cannot  but  make  this 
comparison :  that  tlie  South  is  a  kind  of  national 
woman,  and  the  North  a  national  man.  And  it 
fills  me  with  fear  for  the  future." 

Pembroke  was  afraid  to  answer.  This  was  deli- 
cate ground;  and  he  only  sat  still  while  the  old 
ladv  ran  on. 

'"  Yes,"  she  said,  ^*  the  North  is  a  masculine 
giant,  with  overwhelming  cold  intellect  and  the 
force  it  gives,  and  with  the  emotions — the  heart — 
bred  out.  It  fills  the  idea  of  that  myth — of  the 
giant  that  had  no  heart  in  his  body.  But  the  South 
— passionate,  impulsive,  emotional  through  and 
through — cannot,  because  of  this  very  quality,  use  to 
the  best  point  even  the  force  it  has." 

"  But,"  hesitated  the  Major,  "if  the  absence  of 
the  emotions  implies  a  defective  nature — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  interrupting,  "  I  know 
where  you  will  come  out ;  my  own  reasoning  leads 
to  the  point  that  the  South  should  be  the  superior 


^^CHicKEK  fixings"  a:n'd  a  plot.  57 

ill  virtue  of  what  she  is.  But  I  did  not  mean  su- 
periority as  determined  by  the  test  of  mere  force. 
Besides,  I  do  not  try  my  country  by  this  reasoning 
to  find  it  in  fault;  but  by  the  position  in  which 
such  reasoning  finds  my  country  I  try  the  world, 
and  the  age  in  which  we  live.  ISTations  perhaps 
thrive  as  they  are  fitted  to  the  age ;  and  if  the  Soutli 
fails,  it  will  be  because  the  age  is  a  bad,  hollow,  vile 
utilitarian  one." 

Good  old  Mrs.  Chichester  had  set  out  in  a  mere 
spirit  of  gossip,  but  she  had  inadvertently  gone  too 
far,  and  become  too  deeply  involved  in  the  current 
of  her  own  thoughts ;  and,  afraid  of  lier  nerves, 
she  got  up  and  stepped  quietly  and  swiftly  away 
through  one  of  the  open  windows. 

Aunt  Hetty  was  gone.  Dr.  Braxton  had  not  been 
seen  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  Pembroke  could  hear 
near  him  only  the  soft  murmuring  of  the  voices  of 
Willoughby  and  Phoebe  in  the  deep  gloom  of  tlie 
vines  at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza. 

He  concluded  that  the  day  was  over,  and  thought 
;0f  sleep.  Making  a  little  tour  across  the  lawn 
to  where  the  men  lay,  he  saw  that  all  was  tranquil 
there  ;  that  the  sentries  were  at  their  posts  up  and 
down  the  road  ;  and  that  scarcely  a  sound  was  to  be 
heard  save  from  the  little  camp-fires  where  the 
c<)mpany  darkies  had  cooked  the  supper  :  and  there, 
their  numbers  recruited  by  darkies  of  the  Braxton 
family,  the  happy  contrabands  made  themselves 
merry  with  music. 

Then  he  returned  to  his  end  of  the  piazza,  and 


stretched  himself  for  shimber  where  the  thoughtful 
Hayward  liad  put  a  saddle  for  a  pillow  aud  a  blan- 
ket for  a  bed. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  the  ingenious  Polysenus 
that  Bacchus  conquered  India  very  easily  because 
he  went  there  not  as  a  conqueror  but  as  a  jovial 
merry-maker,  hiding  all  things  that  could  indicate 
an  offensive  intention  under  cover  of  some  part  of 
the  apparatus  of  delight.  Eibbons  and  finery  hid 
his  weapons,  and  the  golden  cone  of  the  thyrsis 
wherever  it  appeared  was  but  a  sheath  to  a  spear- 
point.  He  put  the  spirit  of  conquest  in  a  thin  pic- 
nic envelope  of  hilarity  and  joy. 

Perhaps  that  stratagem  was  borrowed  from  na- 
ture. Because  so  much  that  is  deadly  is  beautiful 
we  might  imagine  that  at  least  as  much  tliat  is 
beautiful  is  related  to  the  deadly.  Is  there  a  more 
beautiful  line  in  the  world  than  that  traced  in  the 
green  and  gold  of  the  spotted  snake  ?  And  if  con- 
quest puts  on  the  forms  of  hilarity  and  delight, 
must  Ave  not  fancy  that  hilarity  and  delight  come 
to  us  always  as  the  stratagems  of  some  sort  of  con- 
quest ? 

Some  such  absurd  notions  as  these  jostled  one 
another  in  the  brain  of  Captain  Pembroke,  in  that 
uncertain  intellectual  world  between  thought  and 
dream,  as  he  lay  in  the  little  rose-covered  piazza, 
weary  with  the  labors  and  excitement  of  the  day,  in 
a  reverie  that  sloped  steeply  toward  deep  sleep. 

It  was  a  quiet,  beautiful  night,  starry  but  with- 
out a  moon,  and  a  fresh  dewy  air  came  in  between 


59 


the  vines  loaded  witli  fragrance.  Some  little  sound 
of  voices  still  came  from  the  lovers  near  by ;  for 
Willoughby  and  Phoebe  were  not  disposed  to  cut 
short  the  delights  of  an  nnhoped-for  interview  for 
the  mere  sake  of  physical  repose.  Out  toward  the 
camp  a  few  fires  smouldered ;  but  all  was  still. 

One  mio-ht  have  imao'ined  that  this  was  thousands 
of  miles  away  from  any  land  torn  up  by  war.  Even 
the  sentry  who  paced  to  and  fro  near  by,  his  foot- 
fall broken  by  the  velvet  sward,  seemed  a  very 
tranquil,  peaceful  presence. 

Wln^,  then,  was  Pembroke,  just  on  the  edge  of 
his  slumber, — at  the  outpost  as  it  w^ere  of  a  good 
night's  rest, — troubled  with  fancies  that  behind  the 
pleasant  hospitality  he  had  enjoyed  in  the  Braxton 
house  there  mio^ht  be  danorer?  Could  there  be 
treachery  in  such  peojDle  ?  No ;  and  yet  these  fan- 
cies slipped  into  and  tangled  his  otherwise  pleasant 
d  reams. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COMPANY    K   FIGHTS    ITS    WAY   OUT. 

Major  Pembroke  was  suddenly  awakened  from  a 
deep  sleep  bj  the  heavy  hand  of  Sergeant  Hayward 
on  his  arm.    He  started  up,  and  the  sergeant  said  : 

"Will  yon  come  a  little  away  from  the  house, 
sir?" 

He  seized  his  hat,  sword,  and  revolver,  and  fol- 
lowed the  sergeant  a  dozen  paces. 

"  There's  cavalry  coming  up  the  road  we  marched 
on  to  dny,"  said  Hayward ;  "and  an  old  darky  down 
by  the  camp-fire  says  they're  Ashby's  men,  and  that 
word  was  sent  to  them  to-night  from  the  house  here 
to  come  over." 

This  report  did  not  surprise  Pembroke.  He  had 
thought  or  dreamed  so  much  that  might  natnrally 
lead  up  to  it  that  it  came  rather  as  a  confirmation  of 
what  was  already  known  than  as  fresh  intelligence. 

"  What  sort  of  a  fellow  is  the  darky  ?" 

"  An  old  sober  fellow  who  belongs  in  the  neigh- 
borhood here." 

"  Who  reports  the  cavalry  ?" 

"  Hagadorn,  the  corporal." 

"Turn  the  company  out.  Have  the  men  drawn 
up  as  rapidly  as  possible,  and  send  Lieutenant  Wood 
here." 


COMPANY   H   FIGHTS   ITS   WAY   OUT.  61 

**  Yes,  sir;"  and  the  sergeant  was  gone. 

Pembroke  liad  by  this  time  collected  himself,  and 
buckled  on  his  sword  ;  and  as  he  waited  for  Wood 
in  the  gloom  about  twenty  paces  from  the  house,  he 
thought  with  a  lively  impatience  rather  tlian  with 
rage  upon  the  apparent  treason  of  those  whose  lios- 
pitality  lie  had  sought  for  their  pleasure,  not  his  own, 
and  whose  act  mio^ht  this  nis^ht  cost  the  lives  of  half 
his  men  and  the  liberty  of  all. 

"  It  is  very  dangerous  to  trust  an  enemy  in  war, 
sir,"  said  Wood  at  his  elbow. 

"Mr.  AYood,"  he  said," if  these  people  have  really 
brought  the  cavalry  down  upon  us,  as  seems  prob- 
able, that  may  not  be  the  whole  of  their  plan." 

"Likely  there's  more  behind,  sir,"  said  Wood. 

"And  we  must  be  beforehand  with  them,  and 
have  no  unnecessary  tenderness  for  them." 

"Indade,  sir,  if  we  wanted  a  light  to  fight  by,  the 
blaze  of  this  house  would  illuminate  a  fine  bit  of 
country." 

"Not  that,"  said  Pembroke,  "but  this:  If  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  cavalry,  we  cannot  fight  it  on  this 
clear  level  ;  but  we  may  be  able  to  get  away  from 
it  in  the  gloom;  or  higher  up  the  mountain,  in  the 
woodier  or  rougher  regions,  we  may  find  positions  in 
which  we  can  stand  off  any  number  of  them." 

"It  is  very  true,  sir." 

"But  if  these  people  remain  in  the  house  when 
we  leave,  to  communicate  all  they  know  of  our  force, 
condition,  and  isolation,  and  just  which  way  we  have 
gone,  it  will  be  much  the  worse  for  us." 


6;^  *'AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON/' 

*•  Must  keep  the  enemy  in  ignorance,  sir." 

"  Therefore  take  half  a  dozen  files  of  men  and  get 
every  sonl  out  of  the  honse,  white,  black,  or  yellow, 
— go  gently  with  the  ladies, — and  hurry  them  all  np 
the  moniitain — no  time  to  lose.  The  road  we  came 
on  winds  at  the  north  side,  returns  behind  the  house 
here,  and  climbs  the  mountain  with  many  doubles. 
You  can  get  into  it  from  the  rear  by  a  little  lane." 

''  I  know  the  way,  sir,"  said  Wood,  who  had  in- 
deed inspected  all  the  strategic  relations  of  the  house 
before  they  sat  down  to  supper. 

"I  will  come  behind  you  with  the  rest  in  case 
there  appears  to  be  more  cavalry  than  we  can  fight 
on  this  plateau.  Take  care  to  keep  in  communica- 
tion ;  for  if  it  seems  best  to  light  here,  I  may  need 
3^our  men." 

"I  will  take  care,  sir,"  said  the  deliberate  lieu- 
tenant. 

Pembroke  hastened  away  through  an  orchard  to 
the  point  at  which  the  cavalry  must  first  reach  his 
lines  ;  but  before  he  was  half  way  there  the  sharp 
report  of  a  rifle  broke  the  midnight  silence,  and 
then  came  another  and  another.  The  pickets  were 
firing  upon  the  advancing  enemy. 

There  was  a  considerable  body  of  cavalry,  and 
owing  to  the  wonderful  stillness  of  the  night  in  this 
isolated  bit  of  countr}^  the  men  on  guard  had  heard 
the  jingle  of  the  cavalry-sabres  against  the  saddles  at  a 
great  distance,  and  thus  were  very  early  aware  of  the 
approach  of  this  force.  This  discovery  was  facili- 
tated by  the  lay  of  the  country,  which  was  such  that 


COMPANY   H   FIGHTS   ITS   WAY   OUT.  63 

often  ;i  point  three  or  four  miles  away  by  the  road 
was  only  half  a  mile  away  across  some  gulch.  Con- 
sequently the  advance  was  not  a  surprise,  or  rather 
it  was  a  surprise  to  the  cavalry;  and  when  two 
troopers  in  front  of  the  force  liad  been  called  upon 
to  halt  and  had  not  given  a  satisfactory  response, 
the  pickets  had  fired,  and  these  first  troopers  had 
gone  to  the  right-about  in  a  hurry. 

Pembroke  leaped  into  the  road  behind  his  men 
just  as  a  hastily-formed  skirmish-line  of  the  troopers 
was  descried  coming  forward  as  if  to  explore  this 
obstacle.  He  withdrew  his  men  from  the  road 
to  the  little  elevation  beside  it  in  the  orchard 
through  which  he  had  come,  and  held  them  quietly 
there.  But  the  cavalrymen,  not  making  out  this 
manoeuvre  in  the  heavy  gloom,  came  on  coolly,  and 
at  twenty  paces  opened  fire  at  that  point  in  the  road 
from  which  our  men  had  delivered  their  first  fire. 
They  were  permitted  to  advance  until  they  Avere 
fairly  opposite  to  our  fellows  in  the  orchard,  and 
then  our  boys  gave  them  a  fire  which  knocked  that 
small  skirmish-line  into  a  cocked  hat. 

Immediately  our  men  were  double-quicked  across 
the  orchard  to  the  camp,  the  pickets  down  the  road 
were  called  in,  and  the  Avhole  command  was  put  in 
motion  to  follow  Lieutenant  Wood ;  for  Pembroke 
had  learned  enough  in  his  short  visit  to  the  pickets 
to  convince  him  that  the  open  plateau  about  Braxton 
House  was  no  place  for  Company  H  on  this  occa- 
sion. 

As  the  men  stepped  promptly  away  toward  the 


64  "AS  WE   WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

lane  tliat  led  to  the  monntain-road,  tlie  Major  heard 
a  bngle-note,  and  tlie  gallant  cheer  of  a  regiment,  at 
that  point  where  the  pickets  had  halted  the  enemy, 
and  then  the  thunder  of  horses'  hoofs  and  clamor  of 
rattling  accoutrem.ents,  as  the  whole  force  of  cavalry 
charged  down  to  clear  the  road.  One  of  those  turns 
in  the  road  already  referred  to  was  of  use  here ;  for 
while  the  spot  wliere  tlie  pickets  had  been  posted  was 
but  a  few  hundred  yards  away  across  the  orchard, 
the  cavalry  wonld  have  to  trot  a  mile  and  a  half  to 
get  to  the  gate  of  Braxton  House  ;  and  if  they  found 
tlie  trail  up  the  mountain  immediatel}",  they  could 
not  follow  it  rapidly. 

Kearly  the  whole  vocabularj^  of  Southern  elo- 
quence was  exhausted  upon  Lieutenant  Wood  before 
he  got  tlie  family  fairly  on  the  road.  But  the  tem- 
per of  that  officer  Avas  not  in  the  least  ruffled  by  the 
torrent  of  words. 

Phoebe  had  not  uttered  a  syllable,  for  she  had  a 
natural  apprehension  that  there  might  be  some  new 
danger  for  Willoughby  in  all  this.  She  had  heard 
stories  of  prisoners  killed  to  prevent  rescue  or 
escape.  She  thought  it  might  be  such  a  case,  and 
she  went  like  one  in  a  trance,  mounted  on  an  old 
family  nag,  while  TVilloughby  walked  beside  her, 
holding  her  little  white  hand  desperately  in  his 
own. 

Old  Braxton  was  so  recklessly  savage  in  speech 
that  Wood  put  him  in  particular  charge  of  a  man 
he  could  depend  upon,  with  an  intimation  that  he 
would  hold  him  persoiuiUy  responsible  for  the  safe 


COMPANY  H   FIGHTS   ITS  WAY   OUT.  65 

delivery  at  the  next  camp  of  this  "  unnecessarily 
energetic  old  gentleman." 

Aunt  Hetty  Chichester  and  a  dozen  old  aunties 
and  uncles  and  pickaninnies  were  the  troublesome 
part  of  the  cortege^  but  by  patience  and  resolution 
all  were  put  on  the  way,  and  moved  rapidly  up  the 
mountain. 

Pembroke  went  through  the  house,  found  not  a 
soul  there,  and  followed  his  men  through  the  lane, 
himself  the  last  file-closer.  He  was  himself  '•  the 
whipsnapper  to  the  rear-guard,"  as  old  Keyes  used 
to  say. 

Our  fellows  had  a  start  of  about  half  an  hour; 
for  the  cavalry,  having  discovered  ont  on  the  road 
that  it  might  prove  expensive  to  come  forward  in  too 
much  of  a  hurry,  now  came  forward  deliberately; 
feeling,  perhaps,  sure  of  their  prey,  but  conscious 
that  they  might  get  a  fire  from  us  at  any  step.  As 
soon  as  they  reached  the  level  upon  which  Company 
H  had  been  encamped,  they  swept  their  line  forward 
rapidly  and  surrounded  the  house.  It  was  imagined, 
apparently,  that  we  were  there  and  intended  to  hold 
the  place.  Time  was  consumed  in  making  proper 
dispositions  to  prevent  our  escape;  then  we  were 
summoned  to  surrender,  and  it  was  discovered  that 
we  were  gone. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Wood,  with  an  apostrophe  in  the 
direction  of  the  enemy,  ''we  are  not  there.     We 
have  tried  the  game  of  fighting  in  tinder-boxes  be- 
fore to-night." 
5 


66  "AS   WE  WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

Thej  did  not  hear  him,  but  thej  made  certain  of 
our  absence. 

Wliere  then  were  we  ?  Scurrying  up  and  down, 
to  and  fro,  and  hither  and  thithei',  was  the  next  resort 
for  the  sohition  of  this  difficult  problem ;  and  at 
last  two  of  the  cavalrymen,  finding  the  mountain- 
way,  followed  it  rapidly,  until  they  were  dropped  in 
the  road  by  the  fire  of  our  rear-guard,  delivered 
almost  in  their  faces.  Those  shots  told  the  story, 
and  soon  the  whole  force  was  at  our  heels. 

But  good  use  had  been  made  of  the  time  gained. 
"We  were  now  two  hundred  feet  above  Braxton 
House,  and  the  road  was  rough,  stony,  and  crooked  ; 
and  a  position  had  been  selected  in  which  we  could 
stand  off  indefinitely  ten  times  as  much  cavalry  as 
we  had  just  now  to  deal  with.  At  the  end  of  a 
steep  stretch  in  the  road  it  turned  suddenly,  with  a 
sheer  mountain-wall  at  one  side  and  a  steep  abyss  at 
the  other,  and  above  the  turn  it  followed  the  upper 
edge  of  the  mountain-wall.  Here  a  section  of  men 
posted  at  the  turn  could  fire  fair  down  the  road  and 
sweep  it,  while  others  above  could  loose  upon  the 
advancing  cavalry  an  avalanche  of  loose  boulders. 

Here  it  seemed  to  many  of  us  was  the  right  place 
to  make  our  fight  for  good  and  all;  but  the  Major 
had  learned  that  yet  a  little  higher  up  the  mountain 
was  a  wide  plateau  wdiicli  stretched  north  and  south 
for  many  miles,  and  it  seemed  possible  to  him  that 
a  part  of  the  cavalry,  by  making  a  wide  detour, 
could  come  down  on  our  rear,  and  that  our  good 
corner  might  prove  a  trap.     He  resolved,  therefore, 


COMPANY   H   FIGHTS   ITS   WAY   OUT.  67 

only  to  hold  this  for  dehay  and  push  on.  Hayward 
was  therefore  put  in  charge  of  the  prisoners,  and 
Wood,  who  was  as  resohite  a  fighter  as  there  was  in 
the  army,  was  put  in  command  here,  while  the  re- 
mainder of  the  company  was  pushed  forward  across 
the  plateau. 

All  this  was  on  foot  while  they. hunted  for  us  he- 
low,  and  when  they  came  up  we  gave  it  to  them. 
Between  the  stones  launched  down  the  mountain 
and  the  fire  of  the  men  posted  at  the  turn,  the  in- 
fernal fiends  could  not  have  come  up  that  road ;  yet 
the  gallant  rebels  tried  it  handsomely  over  and  over 
again ;  and  between  their  yells  and  our  rifles  the 
mountain-side  was  a  pandemonium  of  racket  for  a 
good  hour. 

Meanwhile  Major  Pembroke  with  the  main  body 
of  the  company  pushed  on  for  the  point  where  the 
definite  rise  toward  the  rugged  top  of  the  mountain 
would  justify  a  final  stand,  but  found  this  difficulty : 
the  region  was  so  far  from  where  the  boys  were 
fighting,  just  below  the  edge  of  the  plateau,  that  if 
they  once  left  this  point  they  could  never  reach  the 
other  before  they  would  be  overtaken  and  ridden 
down  by  the  cavalry.  It  would  not  do  to  lose  them 
in  that  way,  and  a  point  of  resistance  or  obstruction 
must  be  found  between  these  places. 

Fortune  favored  us  in  this  particular. 

Much  of  this  plateau  was  a  wide  mountain-morass ; 
such  a  piece  of  country  as  is  found  where  the  streams 
from  the  higher  parts  of  a  range  discharge  them- 
selves on  a  level   and  do   not  find  their  way  out 


63  '*AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

because  a  rocky  edge  all  around  is  liiglier  than  tlie 
middle.  Sudden  heavy  rains  flood  such  regions, 
and  this  had  recently  been  overflowed  in  that  way. 
There  was  a  well-constructed  road  across  the  level, 
but  a  horee  got  mired  almost  anywhere  at  either  side 
of  it. 

At  a  place  about  two  miles  from  the  crest  of  the 
plateau  there  were  twenty  haystacks,  the  product, 
perhaps,  of  all  the  level ;  and  distributed  all  along 
on  one  side  of  the  road  were  many  hundred  feet  of 
well-piled  cordwood. 

At  this  spot  we  were  all  halted,  and  there  was 
some  deliberation,  while  the  steady  rattle  of  the  fire 
at  the  ridge  told  how  coolly  the  fellows  there  were 
giving  an  account  of  themselves  to  the  enemy. 

Then  we  stacked  arms  and  carried  hay.  All  the 
hay  was  distributed  on  the  road,  two  or  three  feet 
deep,  for  as  far  as  it  would  go,  which  was  perhaps 
-Q.ve  hundred  feet — though  I  hope  no  mathematical 
fellow  will  try  this  case  on  me,  for  it  was  a  dim  night, 
and  I  will  not  swear  to  the  distance.  Besides,  I 
won't  swear  to  the  number  or  size  of  the  stacks  of 
ha3\     There  might  have  been  twenty-five. 

Upon  the  hay  we  put  wood,  every  fellow  carry- 
ing logs  on  his  shoulders.  It  was  chestnut,  maple, 
pine,  hickory,  and  white  oak, — the  miscellaneous  cut- 
ting of  a  mountain  country, — and  it  was  thoroughly 
dry.  We  scattered  it  higgledy-piggledy  over  the 
hay  rough  and  high,  and  also  for  a  good  way  up 
the  road  beyond  the  hay.  Hagadorn,  the  corporal, 
bossed  this  job,  while  the  Major  galloped  away  to 


COMPANY   H   FIGHTS   ITS   WAY   OUT.  G9 

clieernp  the  boys  at  the  crest,  and  Ilayward  piislied 
the  prisoners  far  away  ahead  of  us  across  tlie  leveL 

Between  the  Major  and  Lieutenant  "Wood  it  was 
agreed,  at  this  time,  tliat  the  Major  should  give 
a  signal  from  the  new  obstruction  when  all  was 
ready  tliere,  and  that  after  that  signal  Wood  could 
come  in  with  the  men  at  the  first  s^ood  chance  he 
saw. 

Our  job  was  so  far  advanced  when  the  Major  re- 
turned that  he  had  to  abandon  the  mule  with  which 
he  had  ridden  to  the  crest.  He  could  not  be  got 
over  the  obstruction. 

In  twenty  minutes  more  we  were  on  the  march 
again,  with  orders  that  half  a  njile  out  five  files 
should  be  halted  till  the  men  from  the  crest  had 
passed  them,  and  they  were  then  to  come  in  behind. 

Then  the  signal  for  Wood  was  given, — a  solitary 
rifle-shot, — and  the  Major  sat  down  to  wait  for  him. 
Wood  chose  a  happy  moment  for  his  departure, 
which  was  just  after  the  repulse  of  a  very  desperate 
attempt  to  storm  his  stronghold  made  by  the  en- 
emy's men  on  foot.  There  was  always  a  lapse  be- 
tween their  assaults,  and  he  judged  that  such  a  lapse 
now  would  give  time  to  get  away.  He  had  not 
reached  the  new  obstruction,  however,  before  they 
found  he  was  gone,  as  was  indicated  by  the  cheer  at 
the  crest,  and  the  rush  from  there.  He  got  well 
behind  the  obstruction,  however,  before  they  came 
in  sight. 

Only  Major  Pembroke  remained  at  the  obstruc- 
tion.   It  was  late,  but  there  was  no  moon  ;  or  if  there 


70  *^AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

was,  slie  was  masked  by  a  heavy  coast  of  clonds 
wliicli  lay  low  and  would  dim  her  radiance  for  a 
little  longer. 

It  was  an  anxious  time  for  tlie  Major  as  he  heard 
that  cheer  and  rush  of  the  cavalry,  and  saw  Wood's 
men  clambering  over  the  obstruction,  several  of 
them  badly  hurt,  and  the  detachment  two  short. 
Then  when  it  was  a  dead  certainty  that  the  whole 
cavalry  would  be  at  this  place  in  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes, he  went  about  and  rubbed  matclies  and 
dropped  them  in  the  hay. 

Slowly  the  little  tongues  of  fire  turned  and 
twisted  to  one  side  or  another  and  sought  sustenance. 
In  twenty  or  thirty  places  they  labored  in  this  way 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  it  seemed  as  if  they 
discovered  one  another  and  lifted  themselves  up 
and  spread ;  and  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time  that  whole  mass  of  hay  and  wood  was  one 
fierce  blaze. 

Behind  the  cloud  of  heavy  rolling  smoke  that 
rose  from  his  well-contrived  fire  the  Major  waited 
with  a  little  calm  glee  in  his  soul ;  for  he  believed 
lie  had  beaten  them,  but  could  not  well  feel  sure. 
There  might  be  some  fellow  there,  and  probably  was, 
born  on  this  very  plateau,  and  if  there  was  a  patJi 
across  he  would  know  it. 

The  enemy  rode  up  furiously  and  fiercely,  the 
joy  of  success  at  one  point  cut  short  in  the  rage  of 
disappointment  at  another. 

Some  of  them  rode  their  horses  fairly  into  the 
fire,   tliinking  it  a   thin   curtain   only  which  they 


COMPANY    H   FIGHTS   ITS   WAY   OUT.  71 

could  gallop  tlirongli.  But  they  lost  their  horses 
and  got  out  themselves  badly  scorched,  for  the 
wood,  extremely  dry,  had  soon  cauglit,  and  the  heat 
was  terrible.  Other  horses,  wiser  than  their  mas- 
ters, could  not  be  spurred  in. 

"  No  horse  but  Beelzebub's  own  could  get  through 
that  without  breaking  his  legs,  not  if  he  had  forty 
of  'em,"  said  one  old  trooper ;  and  the  truth  was  rec- 
ognized. Then  they  tried  desperately  the  fields  at 
either  side,  and  gave  that  up  ;  and  when  at  last  Pem- 
broke followed  his  men,  the  enemy  had  dismounted 
and  was  engaged  in  the  pleasant  occupation  of  mak- 
ing coffee  by -the  fire  the  Yankees  had  kindled. 

We  reached  the  farther  side  of  the  plateau, 
passed  a  wide  mountain-torrent  on  a  little  bridge, 
sent  the  bridge  into  the  chasm  below  with  a  few 
axe-strokes,  and  a  mile  or  two  beyond  went  into 
camp  in  a  good  defensible  spot. 

It  was  late  and  we  needed  no  rocking. 

We  had  left  behind  us  four  good  men  killed  by 
the  fire  of  the  cavalry  at  the  crest.  Two  had  died  at 
the  crest,  and  two  on  this  march  behind  the  fire. 

They  were  Corporal  Silas  Wainwright,  and 
privates  Eichard  Harrison,  Ealph  Sinclair,  and 
Tliomas  Dalrymple.  Better  fellows  never  wore 
blue  crosses  on  their  caps. 

The  teamster  who  had  first  led  us  wrong  was  prob- 
ably killed  by  the  enemy  at  Braxton.  He  was  last 
seen  drunk  and  asleep  in  one  of  the  outhouses  there. 
At  all  events,  we  never  saw  him  after  that  night. 


CHAPTEK  YII. 

IN    CAMP    GIT-AWAT. 

Orders  were  given  not  to  make  iires  in  camp  that 
night ;  which  was  a  very  proper  precantion,  since, 
as  we  did  not  in  the  least  know  of  the  Lay  of  the 
land  except  immediately  about  us,  those  little  cen- 
tres of  human  comfort  might  also  prove  to  be  far- 
seen  signals,  and  would  in  that  case  procure  for  us' 
the  attention  of  any  commander  of  rebel  forces  that 
might  be  out  in  the  valley. 

But  that  night  in  that  high  mountain  region  was 
sharp  ;  and  the  nipping  and  eager  air  was  wet  with 
a  cold  drizzle  that  thickened  the  marrow  of  our 
bones. 

Eheu  !  what  a  glory  is  a  little  camp-fire  in  a  night 
like  that!  How  the  cheery  crackle  of  the  "sticks 
warms  with  its  very  music! 

Fire,  dear  boys,  if  you  know  what  it  is  at  any 
time  in  your  houses  and  homes,  on  your  hearth- 
stones or  in  your  stoves,  you  do  not  perhaps  know 
what  it  is  to  a  soldier  in  his  bivouac. 

If  the  very  planets  themselves  revolve  around  a 
central  fire,  it  is  no  doubt  the  original  material  im- 
pulse. But  there  are  other  glories  in  it.  What  is 
home  but  the  fire  on  the  hearth-stone,  and  the  happy 
group  about  it?     At  that  blaze  what  souls  are  light- 


IN   CAMP   GIT-AWAY.  73 

ed  np  with  life !  Bat  away  from  liome,  friends,  all 
— the  fire  is  often  all  tliere  is  of  a  fellow's  country, 
and  the  blaze  of  a  few  bits  of  wood  relights 
the  lamp  of  life  for  the  soldier  every  day  in  bad 
times. 

There  was,  however,  one  exception  to  the  order 
against  fires,  and  one  was  kindled  for  the  comfort  of 
the  women,  since  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  they 
would  have  our  habit  of  enduring  hardship.  This 
indulgence  was  allowed  when  it  was  found  that 
there  was  a  corner  in  which  they  could  be  made 
comfortable,  and  where  a  fire  could  be  lighted  with 
a  certainty  that  it  could  not  be  seen  from  even  a  very 
little  distance. 

There  was  a  dry  protected  spot,  about  which  the 
great  tumbled  boulders  made  an  almost  perfect  wall ; 
and  giant  pines  towered  far  above  this  wall  of  stone 
in  such  a  way  that  their  branches  would  prevent  the 
view  of  even  a  reflection  of  the  fire. 

At  the  farther  side  of  this  singular  combination 
of  stones  and  trees  there  was  a  precipitous  descent  of 
several  hundred  feet,  also  covered  with  gnarled  and 
knotted  evergreens  growing  from  crevices  of  the 
rocks.  In  that  place  a  shelter  was  made  of  India- 
rubber  blankets  and  pine  foliage,  and  the  two  ladies 
were  lodged  there.  Three  men  were  put  on  guard 
in  front  of  that  shelter — not  that  they  wei'e  prison- 
ers, but  to  protect  them  from  intrusion.  It  was  as- 
sumed that  the  inaccessible  nature  of  the  other  side 
was  protection  enough  there. 

All  this  care  for  the  women  was  taken  at  nio:ht 


74 

before  we  slept,  under  tlie  Major's  orders,  and  was  in- 
tended, of  course,  as  a  slight  compensation  to  them  for 
the  perils  and  fatigues  whicli  liad  been  caused  them 
through  no  fault  of  ours.  For  when  the  game  was 
once  on  foot  (and  their  side  began  it),  we  could  not 
leave  anybody  behind  who  could  give  information 
about  us ;  and  we  had  to  suppose  that  these  women 
would,  for,  even  if  they  were  not  disposed  to  do  this, 
information  would  be  extorted  from  them  by  threats 
and  terror. 

But  the  old  man  and  Mr.  Willoughby  had  been 
lodged  safely  at  another  part  of  the  camp.  They 
were  prisoners. 

At  about  daylight  Major  Pembroke,  apparently 
upon  a  mature  consideration  of  all  the  facts,  deter- 
mined that  we  should  stay  where  we  were  for  that 
day  at  least. 

All  the  information  we  had  of  things  in  the  world 
about  us  was  derived  from  the  darkies  who  had  fol- 
lowed us  at  night  or  begun  to  come  in  early — and 
they  came  that  day  until  they  were  so  numerous 
that  we  had  to  compel  them  to  form  a  camp  of  their 
own  at  another  point  on  tlie  mountain. 

Information  of  this  sort  was  commonly  accurate 
on  main  facts,  but  cloudy  on  all  points  of  detail,  ex- 
cept points  as  to  roads,  and  paths  through  the  woods, 
and  streams  and  bridges  and  villages.  But  accu- 
rate information  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  bodies  of 
the  enemy  was  what  we  wanted  just  now,  and  of 
that  there  was  very  little. 

Until  we  could  know  just  how  to  move  we  might 


IN   CAMP   GIT-AWAY.  75 

as  well  stand  still,  and  this  would  rest  ns  all  and 
give  the  w^onnded  fellows  a  chance  ;  so  the  thonght- 
ful  Major  let  the  bojs  sleep  on.  As  it  was  now 
known  that  there  was  such  a  body  as  ours  in  that 
country  it  would  not  be  well,  of  course,  to  stay  too 
many  days  in  one  place;  and  that,  as  we  subsequently 
knew,  the  Major  did  not  forget. 

'No  reveille  awakened  us  in  camp  that  day,  be- 
cause the  roll  of  the  morning  drum  re-echoed  from 
the  rocky  cliffs  might  have  secured  for  us  by  day  as 
much  attention  as  the  blaze  of  a  fire  by  night.  If 
we  had  the  enemy  all  about  us,  we  could  get  away 
only  by  Indian  tactics. 

And  that  is  how  it  happened  that  the  two  ladies 
were  not  aroused  by  the  fife  and  drum,  but  first  be- 
came aware  that  the  camp  was  on  foot  by  the  talk 
they  heard  outside  their  shelter. 

How  they  got  through  the  apprehensions  and 
anxieties  of  that  night  it  would  be  difficult  to  tell ; 
but  when  we  halted  and  they  were  put  into  that 
safe  and  comparatively  cosey  corner,  they  perhaps 
slept  a  little  from  the  mere  exhaustion  due  to  so 
much  of  a  rough  run  as  they  had. 

But  the  pleasant  assurance  that  it  w^as  day  came 
from  the  voice  of  Hayward  the  sergeant,  wdio 
w^as  posted  at  one  of  the  approaches  to  their  corner. 

He  sang  with  many  variations  of  an  unmusical 
voice  a  chant  of  those  days  which  ever  returned  to 
the  singular  allegation  : 

"A  soldier's  life  is  always  gay — 
A 1  ways  ga — y!" 


76  "AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

And  as  the  incongruity  of  this  declaration  with 
the  present  circumstances  seemed  to  dawn  npon  him, 
he  added,  in  a  less  rliythmical  style : 

"  Specially  'bout  daylight  follerin'  a  wet  night 
and  a  helter-skelter  run  in  the  mountains  ;  when  the 
aforesaid  sojer  wakes  up  stiS  with  the  rheumatis, 
and  has  to  get  up  slow  for  fear  of  breaking  into  new 
j'ints  if  he  goes  too  fast ;  cold  through  and  through, 
and  wringing  wet ;  with  an  appetite  like  an  earth- 
quake, and  no  breakfast,  and  all  the  wood  too 
darned  wet  to  burn — 

''Too  wet  to  burn — yes,  sirree ;  and  what's 
worse,  orders  not  to  burn  it:  no  fires  till  after  rev- 
er-lee — and,  by  Jingo,  no  rev-er-lee  ! 

"I'm  'nation  glad  I  ain't  the  commander  of  these 
troops ;  for,  if  I  was,  some  feller'd  say  I  was  a  fool, 
and  I'd  have  to  lick  him. 

"  Which  would  be  beneath  my  dignity  as  an  offi- 
cer. Correct  thing  would  be  to  hang  him  up  by  the 
thumbs,  and  that  would  be  hard  upon  a  feller  for 
only  telling  the  truth. 

"  Upon  the  whole,  it  is  better  as  it  is,  though  it's 
pretty  bad." 

"  What  are  you  growling  about,  Jake  ?"  said  an- 
other voice. 

Whereupon  a  third  voice  said  : 

"  He  ain't  growlin'  about  notliin'  pertickler ; 
lie's  amusin'  himself  with  philosophical  conversa- 
tion." 

"  Growlin' !"  said  Hay  ward.  "  If  you  call  that 
growlin',  you  orter  hear  me  when  times  is  hard  with 


IN"  CAMP  GIT-AWAY.  77 

the  bojs.  If  you  call  that  growlin',  -what  would 
you  call  the  cheerful  voice  of  the  early  robin  when 
there  ain't  no  wnms?  I  was  only  goin'  into  per- 
ticklers  about  the  gayety  of  a  soldier's  life,  and  givin' 
reasons  for  it." 

Hereupon,  convinced  by  all  this  miscellaneous 
gabble,  that  thei-e  were  plenty  on  foot  about  her,  the 
old  lady  appeared  to  Hayward  and  proposed  to  give 
him  burning  sticks  from  her  sheltered  fire  with 
which  to  start  his  own,  upon  the  sole  condition  that 
he  should  divide  the  coffee  with  her  and  her  niece. 

"Proposition  accepted.  Would  ha'  given  you 
coffee  long  ago  if  I'd  know'd  you  wanted  it,  ma'am," 
said  Hayward. 

And  that's  how  the  ladies  got  their  first  breakfast 
at  "  Camp  Git-away." 

Oar  boys  called  that  first  camp  on  the  mountain- 
top  by  that  name,  because,  as  they  understood  it,  we 
had  at  once  got  away  from  the  enemy  and  with  the 
enemy ;  for  in  their  speech  to  "  git  away  with" 
some  one  was  to  outwit  or  outdo  him,  or  in  anyway 
to  demonstrate  your  own  superiority. 

Names  for  camps  which  involved  humorous  fan- 
cies were  always  popular  with  the  men,  for  this  was 
the  soldier's  fun.  It  was  one  of  his  ways  of  meet- 
ing an  unpropitious  destiny  by  laughing  at  it.  And 
even  the  very  littleness  of  the  joke  involved  some- 
times helped  this  effect,  because  the  smallness  of  the 
pleasantry  with  which  we  meet  any  given  calamity 
may  indicate  not  so  much  a  paucity  of  wit  as  the 
measure  of  contempt  for  the  occasion. 


78  *^AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

We  had  seven  wounded  men  in  camp, — fellows 
not  so  badlj  Imrt  but  that  thej^  had  been  able  to 
keep  up, — and  at  roll-call  it  was  found  we  were  four 
men  short.  Some  of  the  darkies  who  had  come  in 
about  daylight  reported  these  men  dead  at  different 
points  on  the  way,  and  a  detail  was  sent  back, 
guided  by  the  contrabands,  to  bury  our  boys. 

As  for  the  wounded  men,  it  turned  out  that  old 
Braxton  was  a  good  surgeon,  and  he  volunteered  to 
dress  the  wounds  and  care  for  the  wounded  if  in- 
struments could  be  obtained  from  his  house.  By 
comparing  notes  with  the  darkies  it  was  found  that 
we  were  not  a  great  way  from  the  house,  though 
the  windinorroad  had  made  the  march  a  lono^  one. 

Two  adventurous  fellows  were  ready  to  undertake 
this  errand,  and  went,  accompanied  by  a  darky  of 
tlie  family,  with  a  commission  from  the  ladies. 
They  were  away  all  day,  and  returned  at  night  with 
the  instruments,  and  with  news  that  the  house  had 
been  sacked  by  the  cavalry,  and  part  of  it  burned. 
That  we  had  not  noticed  that  fire  at  the  time  was 
perhaps  because  the  flame  it  made  must  have  been 
nearly  in  a  line  with  the  fire  we  had  made  our- 
selves. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  there  was  assigned  to  a 
comrade  and  myself  the  pleasant  duty  of  building 
beds  upon  which  the  women  could  pass  the  night 
comfortably.  This  was  a  pleasant  duty,  because  it 
brought  us  near  to  these  two  ladies,  and  enabled  us 
to  see  them  and  hear  their  voices  ;  and  for  men  who 
had   been  so  long  away  from  home,  and  from  the 


IN   CAMP   GIT-AAVAY.  79 

sound  of  women's  voices,  this  was  a  treat  that  others 
might  not  appreciate. 

We  made  them  good  beds  on  a  plan  common  in 
camp  in  those  days.  We  went  to  the  woods  near 
and  cnt  for  each  bed  four  stakes  about  four  feet 
long,  pointed  at  one  end  and  crotched  at  the  otlier, 
two  straight  rods  five  feet  long,  and  six  straight  rods 
eight  feet  long. 

The  four  pointed  stakes,  placed  like  the  posts  of 
an  old-fashioned  bedstead,  were  driven  into  the 
ground  about  a  foot  deep,  with  the  crotches  so 
turned  as  to  hold  evenly  stout  rods  placed  crosswise. 
Into  tliese  crotches  were  then  rested  the  five-foot 
rods,  and  the  eight-foot  rods,  placed  lengthwise,  were 
rested  at  each  end  on  the  cross-bars.  Tliese  lono: 
rods  were  fastened  at  proper  intervals  with  twine, 
and  then  were  covered  over  nearly  a  foot  deep  with 
an  even  pad  of  short  pine-twigs,  carefully  placed  so 
that  the  stems  should  not  protrude. 

There  is  not  a  finer  bed  in  the  world  than  one  so 
made.  The  long  rods  give  just  about  the  elasticity 
of  a  good  bed-spring,  and  the  comfort  and  fragrance 
of  a  mattress  of  pine-twigs  would  turn  the  head  of 
a  Sybarite. 

Because  the  two  women  watched  with  so  much 
attention  our  labors  in  this  sphere  of  campaigning 
art,  I  thought  it  might  also  interest  others  to  hear 
about  it ;  hence  the  attention  given  to  this  trifle. 
But  while  they  watched  us  they  could  not  brood  upon 
their  own  troubles,  and  any  fact  that  turned  their 
thoughts  for  a  moment  was  perhaps  welcome. 


80  '^  AS    WE   WEKT   MARCHING    ON." 

Tliey  overwhelmed  us  with  an  enthusiastic  admh'a- 
tion  of  these  contributions  to  tlieir  comfort.  Ihit  we 
could  not  honestly  accept  all  tlieir  compliments,  for 
we  had  not  invented  this  couch.  It  had  grown  in 
the  camp  somehow  in  the  course  of  years,  and  we 
made  it  as  we  had  seen  others  make  it. 

This  was  the  first  time  I  clearly  saw  Miss  Phoebe 
Braxton. 

She  was  a  very  handsome  woman. 

Her  face  was  particularly  fine.  It  was  of  a  type 
sometimes  seen  in  minature  portraits  of  the  beauties 
of  a  by-gone  age ;  beauties  who  have  left  on  ivory 
the  scheme  of  their  charms  in  colors  dimmed  by  the 
touch  of  time,  but  whose  names  are  gone  forever, 
because  the  lips  that  loved  to  repeat  them  are  dry  as 
the  tinder  made  from  mummy. 

In  out-of-the-way  regions  these  faces  of  the  fine 
old  type  seem  to  linger  ;  and  it  is  as  if  the  counte- 
nances of  a  breed  of  people  formed  themselves  on 
the  people's  thoughts,  and  the  modern  thoughts  had 
not  yet  reached  these  secluded  spots  to  give  a  style 
of  every-day  vulgarity  to  the  girls'  faces. 

Phoebe's  face  was  the  face  of  Pauline  Bona- 
parte drawn  in  daintier  lines,  such  as  are  character- 
istic of  our  climate — the  same  lines  without  the 
sensuous  amplitude  given  by  the  blood  of  Corsica. 

It  was  a  long  oval,  finished  above  by  gracefully 
disposed  waves  of  raven  hair  which  came  almost  to 
the  eyebrows,  and  ended  below  by  a  chin  as  per- 
fectly moulded  as  if  it  were  the  last  result  of  nature's 
experience  in  that  direction.      The  nose  was  not 


IN  CAMP  GIT- A  WAY.  81 

protrusive  nor  large,  and  yet  its  graceful  length 
left  no  point  to  desire  in  that  regard ;  and  it  filled 
with  all  the  artistic  effect  required  of  any  possible 
nose  the  space  between  the  fine  line  of  the  eye- 
brows,— not  arched,  but  perfectly  straight, — and  the 
beautiful  curve  of  lips  that  pouted  a  little. 

Her  voice  was  very  pleasant.  There  were  some 
tones  in  it  like  the  tones  of  a  boy's  voice  ;  so  that 
it  was  rather  stronger  and  deeper  than  women's 
voices  generally  are.  This  had  an  odd  effect  at 
first,  but  grew  upon  you  and  proved  a  veritable 
charm ;  for  never  was  a  boy's  voice  so  musical  or 
so  exquisitely  modulated. 

She  had  hazel  eyes,  with  a  softened,  liquid,  ten- 
der glance.  She  was  a  trifle  tall,  was  slender,  and 
perfectly  graceful  in  every  movement. 

Altogether  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  saw  before  so 
handsome  and  attractive  a  person. 

She  was  shy  to  engage  in  conversation,  though 
evidently  eager  to  know  the  detail  of  all  that  had 
happened;  but  she  left  the  pushing  of  these  in- 
quiries to  the  old  lady,  who  exhibited  an  indomita- 
ble energy  in  that  way. 

Where  was  Dr.  Braxton  ?  Had  anything  happen- 
ed to  him?  What  had  happened  to  the  others? 
Were  many  hurt  ?  Where  was  Willoughby  ?  Who 
was  killed  ?  Where  w^ere  we  ?  Where  were  we 
going?  What  was  to  come  next?  These  are  but 
samples  of  the  regular  file-fire  of  questions  she 
opened  upon  us  and  kept  up. 

My  comrade,  who  was  a  cool  fellow,  with  per- 
6 


82 

liaps  just  a  trace  of  impudence  in  him,  but  witli  plenty 
of  good-nature, — liis  name  was  Sam  Griffin, — said 
in  a  calm,  methodical  wa}^,  when  the  old  lady 
called  a  halt : 

"  Now,  ma'am,  to  begin  at  the  beginning.  Near- 
ly as  I  recom member,  your  first  question  was, 
'  Where  is  Dr.  Braxton  ? '  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  that  was  very  likely 
my  first  question ;  he's  my  brother.  He  is  this 
lady's  father." 

'•  Oh,  it's  all  right,  ma'am  ;  no  harm  in  the  ques- 
tion. Only,  my  pardner  and  me,  we're  pretty  slow 
about  answerin'  questions;  and  'fore  we  had  a 
chance  ter  answer  that  one,  you  asked  two  or  three 
or  four  or  five  or  six  other  ones,  and  the  conversa- 
tion kinder  broke  away,  and  I  was  tryin'  to  get  it 
into  line  again.  And,  as  I  said,  I  believe  that  ques- 
tion was  on  the  right  of  the  line." 

"Well,  it  was,  then.     Where  is  Dr.  Braxton?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  he's  in  the  guard-house." 

"  The  guard-house !  the  guard-house !"  And  the 
two  ladies  were  filled  with  alarm  and  anxiety  at 
what  this  might  mean. 

'•What  had  he  done?  Why  was  he  locked  up? 
Would  they  murder  him  ?" 

Now,  the  word  guard-house  is  generally  more  for- 
midable than  the  fact.  There  is,  as  a  rule,  no  house 
in  the  case,  as  that  word  is  commonly  understood ; 
though  if  the  word  house  means  merely  a  place  of 
abode,  this  was  as  much  a  house  as  any  other.  Our 
guard-house  here,  as   in    many  other   places,  was 


IN   CAMP   GIT-AWAT.  83 

simply  a  marked-out  limit  of  the  ground  we  all 
slept  upon.  This  limit  was  a  square,  inclosed  on 
three  sides  by  loose  logs  found  near,  and  on  the 
fourth  side  was  the  sentry.  The  prisoners  could  have 
stepped  over  the  barriers  at  any  point  as  easily  as 
over  a  chalked  line,  but  it  was  perfectly  under- 
stood that  to  step  over  was  death,  unless  permission 
was  first  given.  Prisoners  were  not  often  refractory 
in  that  way. 

It  required  a  good  deal  of  talking  to  convince  the 
ladies  that  the  guard-house  was  only  one  other  inno- 
cent part  of  the  mountain,  and  that  keeping  pris- 
oners in  it  was  only  a  military  formality. 

"  Now,"  said  Grifiin,  "  if  yer  please,  I'll  go  on 
with  them  questions.  ^Was  many  hurt?'  Well, 
not  many,  if  you  count  in  proportion  to  the  whole 
company.  But  of  eight  that  was  engaged  where 
the  best  fighting  was  done,  seven  was  hit." 

"  Poor  fellows !"  said  the  young  lady.  "  I  hope 
they're  not  badly  hurt." 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  said  Griffin,  with  a  natural  pathos 
in  his  voice,  "  there's  some  of  them  fellows  for 
whom  the  war  is  over,  and  some  for  whom  it  is 
pretty  nigh  over." 

"  Heaven  have  pity  on  their  mothers !"  said  the 
old  lady. 

"Yes,  'm,"  said  Griffin,  "that's,  perhaps,  most- 
ly what'll  be  wanted  in  their  families.  But  to 
go  on.  'Where  are  we?'  Yes,  'Where  are  we,  and 
where  are  we  going?'    These  is  two  questions  that 


84  **AS   WE  WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

might  as  well  be  taken  together.  Nobody  knows 
and  nobody  can  iind.  out." 

"  Lost  in  the  mountain,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Jist  about  the  way  of  it,"  said  the  soldier. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  forty  thousand  men 
could  be  lost  here  and  never  find  their  way 
out." 

"Which  is  a  consoling  observation,"  said  GriflSn. 

Half  the  time  she  was  in  tears,  and  the  younger 
woman  now  and  again  paid  these  tributes  of  sym- 
pathy to  her  aunt's  trouble. 

Thej  were  both  exceedingly  distressed  at  the 
news  that  the  house  was  burned.  But  this  fact 
seemed  to  fit  happily  into  some  conversation  they 
had  previously  had,  in  which  the  young  lady  had 
maintained  that  they  were  now  safer  in  our  hands 
than  they  would  be  at  their  own  home,  with  the 
country  full  of  marauders,  because  regular  troops 
under  discipline  are  subject  to  restraint,  while  the 
"partisans"  of  Virginia  were  simply  bandits  who 
made  patriotism  their  pretext. 

Griffin,  who  was  always  full  of  stories,  told  them 
two  or  three  things  that  had  happened  which  seem- 
ed to  prove  this. 

One  serious  observation  the  old  lady  made  was 
that  Major  Pembroke  did  not  come  to  see  her,  and 
she  felt  hurt  at  this  want  of  attention. 

But  the  young  lady  said  : 

"  Aunty,  dear,  the  officer  had  to  give  us  all  this 
distress  on  account  of  duty  to  his  men,  as  Arthur 
told  us;  and  now  he  is,  no  doubt,  afraid  you'll  scold 


IN   CAMP   GIT- AWAY.  85 

liim  as  soon  as  you  see  liim,  and  does  not  want  to 

face  it." 

And  I  said,  '*  I  guess  that's  jist  it,  miss." 

I  thought  it  was  very  nice  in  tliis  little  woman 

to  come  to  the  Majors  support  in  that  ready  way, 

and  I  liked  her  for  it. 


CHAPTER  yill. 

THE    GEEEN-EYED   MONSTER. 

It  is  possible  to  find  a  great  many  men  in  tlie 
world  less  satisfied  with  themselves  and  with  their 
lot  in  life  than  we  were  in  that  camp.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  glory  in  the  air.  We  rejoiced  in 
what  seemed  to  us  all  a  neat  victory,  and  felt  that 
we  had  shown  ourselves  equal  to  a  difficult  occa- 
sion in  all  the  qualities  that  such  an  occasion  calls 
for.  This  feeling  would  have  lifted  up  our  hearts 
against  almost  any  hardship  ;  but  indeed  we  saw  no 
hardship  in  that  adventurous  march  through  the 
mountains  ;  for  though  the  way  was  unknown,  and 
our  communications  with  the  commissary  depart- 
ment irremediably  cut,  we  were  not  very  hungry 
yet,  and  did  not  know  the  worst;  and  confidence 
and  hope  made  us  happy. 

But  there  was  one  man  in  that  camp  thoroughly 
prostrated  in  the  caves  of  despair.  He  had  no  part  in 
our  pride  to  sustain  him,  nor  could  the  splendor  of 
nature  in  that  magnificent  region  make  any  im- 
pression whatever  upon  his  fancy  filled  entirely 
with  gloomy  thoughts. 

Willoughby  was  the  most  miserable  man  I  ever 
saw.     His  exhilaration  at  one  moment  and  his  gloom 


THE   GREEN-EYED   MONSTER.  87 

at  another  were  elements  of  his  character;  and  he 
was  now  at  the  lowest  curve  of  all  possible  mental 
depression. 

And  the  Major  also  had  at  this  time  some  hours 
of  gloom. 

The  Major,  when  the  surprise  came  upon  us  at 
night,  and  in  all  the  subsequent  endeavor,  liad  dealt 
with  it  simply  as  the  fact  of  the  hour  that  had  to 
be  faced,  however  it  might  have  been  brought  about ; 
but  he  had,  as  soon  as  the  enemy  was  evidently  off 
our  hands,  given  some  thought  to  the  effort  to 
fathom  the  hidden  history  of  the  coming  of  the 
rebel  cavalry,  and  to  determine  whether  we  owed 
any  recognition  on  that  score  to  any  of  the  persons 
then  in  our  camp. 

Dr.  Braxton,  Mrs.  Chichester,  Miss  Phoebe, 
Captain  Willoughby— could  any  of  these  have  done 
it?  Could  Willoughby  have  led  us  into  a  trap? 
Could  the  others  have  taken  an  unfair  advantage  of 
what  seemed  so  much  to  please  them  ?  It  was  hard 
to  believe  either  of  these  things;  for  to  believe 
either  was  to  lose  some  portion  of  the  faith  the 
Major  had  in  all  those  pleasant  people. 

But  he  was  not  a  man  to  hesitate  between  per- 
sonal inclination  and  duty  ;  and  therefore  there  was 
a  period  of  one  day  in  which  the  life  of  Dr.  Brax- 
ton was  in  imminent  peril,  and  our  relations  with 
that  family  were  likely  to  end  in  a  tragedy  that 
would  have  raised  a  great  Southern  cry  against  the 
barbarous  spirit  of  Northern  officers. 

Tliere  was   a  certain  old  darky  who  pretended 


88  "AS   WE   WEKT   MARCHING   ON.'^ 

to  know  positively  tliat  Dr.  Braxton  had  sent  in- 
telligence tlirougli  our  lines  that  night ;  and  all  the 
other  darkies  declared  with  vociferous  agreement 
not  only  that  this  was  not  true,  but  that  this  par- 
ticular old  darkv  had  a  special  fame  in  all  the 
country  round  for  his  qualifications  as  a  liar. 

NoWj  this  testimony  was  divided  with  all  the  wit- 
nesses except  one  against  that  one ;  but  it  did  not 
escape  the  Major  that  the  crowd  was  declaring  a 
negative, — was  declaring  that  it  did  not  know  some- 
thing,— and  that  one  darky  was  declaring  his  posi- 
tive knowledge  of  a  definite  fact. 

But  the  observation  that  the  old  darky  had  a 
suspicious  readiness  to  respond  in  any  sort  of  ques- 
tionincrwith  the  answer  that  he  imagined  would  be 
agreeable  to  our  side  cast  so  much  doubt  upon  his 
testimony  that  the  Major  saw  he  could  not  trust  it; 
therefore  he  did  not  act. 

Consequently  the  air  was  not  cleared  up,  and  the 
suspicion  remained  ;  and  while  he  was  still  full  of 
gloom  upon  this  point,  the  Major  called  upon  Wil- 
loughby  in  the  guard-house,  lie  could  not  have 
thought  that  Willoughb}',  even  if  he  had  any  knowl- 
edge, would  disclose  it.  He  may  have  thought  he 
could  discover,  at  least,  whether  the  other  had  a 
guilty  knowledge  that  would  make  him  shy  of  the 
object. 

They  were  a  gloomy  pair.  But  Willoughby  was 
so  concentrated  in  his  own  gloom  that  he  did 'not 
notice  the  Major's ;  while  the  Major,  alert  to  notice 
the  other's  frame  of  mind,  wondered  whether  this 


THE   GREEIT-EYED  MONSTER.  89 

special  depression  was  other  than  what  might  be 
expected  in  the  circumstances. 

*'  Blue-devils  again  ?"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Willoughby ;  ^'  blue  devils,  and  gray 
devils,  and  brown  devils.  My  mind  is  a  chaos  of 
devils  of  all  colors,  every  one  worse  than  the 
other.  In  the  other  world  or  in  this  there  can  bo 
no  torture  so  bad  as  that  of  tormentins:  thoughts." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Major ;  ''  I  have  some  also." 

"  But  at  about  daylight  this  morning  I  was  gay 
enongh,"  said  Willoughby. 

"  Gay  ?"  said  the  Major,  with  some  wonder  in  his 
voice. 

"Yes.  You  sec,  it  was  this  way.  I  had  made  up 
my  mind ;  I  had  determined  what  I  would  do.  I 
had  reached  a  desperate  resolution.  Concluding 
from  all  that  lias  lately  happened  that  association 
with  me  was  a  bane  to  all  my  friends,  I  had  re- 
solved to  get  out  of  this  life  ;  and  the  moment  I  had 
determined  on  that  I  was  as  calm  and  happy  as 
ever  I  was  before  in  all  my  days." 

"  But  have  you  any  weapon  ?" 

"  Not  even  a  toothpick.  But  I  had  a  plan.  My 
intention  was  to  run  the  guard,  and  to  do  it  in  a 
defiant  way,  so  that  the  sentinel  would  have  to  fire  ; 
but  to  do  it  so  clumsily  that  he  could  not  possibly 
miss  me." 

'•  That  was  a  good  plan." 

"  And  yet  I  was  afraid  it  would  fail." 

"  And  if  it  had  failed  ?" 

"  Then  my  intention  was  to  return,  overpower 


90  "as   WE   WEXT  MARCHING   OK." 

the  guardsman,  and  blow  out  my  brains  with  liis 
gun." 

"  "Well,  one  way  or  the  other  would  have  made  it 
certain,  I  should  say.  And  yet  this  scheme  that  was 
the  source   of  so  much  gayety  you  did  not  carry 

QUt  ?" 

''  ISTo ;  and  there  again  is  my  cursed  ill-fortune. 
The  evil  one  put  into  my  head  a  fancy  that  a  soldier 
has  not  a  right  to  kill  himself." 

"  An  honest  evil  one,  that." 

"  There  came  to  me  a  thought  that  it  is  a  soldier's 
duty  to  endure ;  and  that  for  him  to  kill  himself  is 
in  its  way  a  kind  of — well,  desertion  of  the  colors." 

"  "Well,  with  that  particular  evil  one  I  agree.*" 

"And  then,  again, — my  imagination  is  perhaps  too 
active, — I  could  not  get  out  of  my  thought  the 
picture  of  these  dear  women  with  such  an  event 
added  to  their  other  troubles ;  and  I  cursed  myself 
for  an  idiot.  Fancy  them  with  my  corpse  on  their 
hands ;  and  you  know  yourself  how  disagreeable 
fellows  look  when  they  are  dead  and  yellow,  es- 
pecially without  clean  linen." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Major.  "  In  our  regiment  we  al- 
ways dress  for  battle." 

"  Now,  Major,  what  could  a  fellow  do  in  such  cir- 
cumstances ?  You  are  a  cool  one  and  have  got  more 
sense  than  I  have.  "What  would  you  do  if  you  had 
concluded  that  life  was  not  worth  all  this  bother  and 
trouble  and  turmoil,  and  yet  felt  that  you  could  not 
honorably  get  out  of  it  ?" 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  Major,  "  that  j^our 


THE   GREEN-EYED   MONSTER.  91 

question  takes  too  many  things  for  granted,  because 
I  do  not  believe  I  should  ever  reach  your  first  con- 
clusion unless  I  had  a  great  deal  more  to  bother  me 
than  there  is  to  bother  you." 

"More  !"  said  "VVilloughby.  '*  Why,  Major,  just 
think  of  it,  now ;  run  over  it  with  me.  You  know 
my  personal  mishaps  of  the  first  night  of  our  acquain- 
tance — I  hardly  count  that.  But  consider  the  posi- 
tion of  the  ladies  and  the  dear  old  doctor,  either 
abandoned  to  the  possibilities  of  the  wilderness  or 
compelled  to  move  in  the  train  of  an  enemy's  force. 
The  facts  themselves  as  they  stand  are  not  so  bad  as 
the  possibilities  involved  in  case  of  any  change. 
Your  prosperity  is  their  only  safety,  and  you  may 
be  attacked  again  any  night  and  your  force  per- 
haps overwhelmed,  and  what  then  ?  And  but  for 
me,  for  my  idiocy,  they  would  have  been  safe  at 
home  to-day,  for  I  brought  all  this  trouble  to  their 
doors." 

"  Perhaps  there  is  a  divided  responsibility,"  said 
the  Major,  coolly.  "  You  brought  my  command 
there  ;  but  my  command  did  no  harm.  It  halted  at 
night,  and  would  have  moved  at  daylight.  But  the 
person  who  brought  the  rebel  cavalry  there  did 
worse.     Who  was  that  ?" 

Willoughb}^  looked  up  with  his  open  boyish  air 
and  said  : 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"Whoever  did  that  did  all  the  mischief,"  said 
the  Major.     "  Can  you  guess  who  did  it  V 

"  ISTo." 


"  Well,  it  was  a  foolish  act  to  invite  a  battle  about 
one's  lieartli-stone." 

Thereupon  Willoiighbj,  caught  by  tlie  words  and 
the  tone,  looked  anew  at  the  Major,  and  their  eyes 
met,  and  there  was  a  silent  conference  in  which 
each  saw  and  felt  that  there  was  perfect  fair-play 
in  the  other. 

"  Yes,  Major,"  said  Willoughby,  "  I  know  what 
troubles  you,  and  the  knowledge  that  it  would  trouble 
you  has  troubled  me.  But  nobody  in  the  circle 
about  that  hearth-stone  invited  that  battle.  They  do 
not  love  your  cause;  but  if  they  fight  it,  they  will 
fight  fair.  If  you  suspect  any  person  in  Dr.  Brax- 
ton's family  of  sending  word  through  your  lines,  you 
do  a  great  injustice." 

Somehow  the  air  was  clearer  after  this  declara- 
tion which  did  not  argue  anything,  but  only  stated 
a  conviction  of  the  sincerity  of  which  the  Major 
was  sure. 

"  Besides,"  said  Willoughby,  '•  why  is  it  necessary 
to  suspect  any  one  ?  It  did  not  happen  that  way. 
Did  you  ever  hear  what  the  old  Arab  said  to  the 
lion-hunter  ?" 

^'No." 

"  Well,  he  said — If  in  the  wilderness  yon  see  a 
lion,  and  he  seems  not  to  see  you,  wait  till  he  has 
passed  on  out  of  sight,  and  then  turn  short  around 
and  go  the  other  way  from  that  in  which  you  were 
going  when  you  saw  him ;  because  he  saw  you,  and 
is  going  to  wait  for  you  at  some  convenient  point 
in  the  direction  in  which  you  were  moving." 


THE   GREEN-EYED   MONSTER.  93 

"  Well,  I  do  not  see  any  connection." 

"  What  I  would  suggest  is  this.  Several  times 
yesterday  on  the  march  across  the  valley  you  saw 
bodies  of  partisans  and  kept  your  command  hidden 
in  the  woods.  They  seemed  not  to  see  yon.  Some 
of  them  probably  did  see  yon,  watched  you,  fol- 
lowed you,  and  reported  your  whereabouts  to  larger 
bodies,  and  so  brought  these  down  upon  you  at 
night." 

"It  may  have  happened  that  way,"  said  the 
Major. 

"It  could  not  have  happened  any  other  way," 
said  Willoughby ;  "  but  if  there  were  a  thousand 
ways  in  which  it  might  have  happened,  none  of 
them  would  have  touched  the  honor  of  the  Braxton 
family  had  they  not  been  drawn  into  the  circle  of 
my  evil  destiny." 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence,  and  the  Major 
said : 

"  If  they  are  drawn  into  the  circle  of  your  des- 
tiny, you  arc  drawn  into  the  circle  of  theirs.  Your 
life  is  associated  with  Phoebe's,  let  us  say,  as  much 
as  hers  with  yours;  and  is  there  not  some  seliish 
assumption  in  the  fancy  that  if  the  superior  powers 
liave  taken  a  hand  in,  they  have  interfered  rather 
from  your  side  than  from  hers  ?" 

"  Why,  perhaps  there  is,"  said  Willoughby.  "  It 
did  not  strike  me  that  way." 

"'  Just  imagine,  now,"  said  Pembroke,  "  a  divine 
presence  upon  the  earth  like  Phoebe  Braxton :  a 
beauty  seldom  equalled ;  a  grace  of  demeanor  and 


94 

mind,  and  a  silent  sincerity  and  courage  that  rather 
realize  what  we  conceive  of  goddesses  than  recall 
what  we  have  seen  in  women.  Just  imagine  all  that, 
and  then  consider  the  absurdity  of  supposing  that 
the  heavenly  forces  would  sway  her  destiny  to  suit 
that  of  fellows  such  as  we  are,  and  not  ours  to  suit 
hers." 

^*  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Willoughby,  a  little 
dazed  by  new  thoughts. 

And  then  as  they  sat  wordless  again  for  a  little 
while,  and  each  mused  on  the  patli  of  his  own  specu- 
lations, "Willoughby's  thought  of  how  his  friends 
had  been  swept  to  calamity  in  the  whirl  of  his  ill- 
fortune  gave  place  to  a  definite  notion  that  Pem- 
broke's admiration  for  Phoebe  was  somewhat  en- 
thusiastic ;  that  Phoebe's  beauty  had  impressed  too 
much  the  mind  of  this  fortunate  enemy. 

From  this  it  was  but  a  short  step  for  a  lover's 
fancy  to  the  thought  that  Pembroke  was  in  love 
with  Phoebe ;  for  how  could  he  comprehend  that 
any  one  could  admire  Phoebe  and  not  feel  toward 
her  as  he  did  ? 

At  the  moment  Willoughby  reached  that  point 
Pembroke  had  determined  one  that  had  floated 
vaguely  in  his  own  mind,  and  he  said  : 

''  Would  it  not  be  well  to  consider  some  way  to 
get  these  ladies  out  of  camp — some  place  to  send 
them  to — some  plan  by  which  they  may  be  made 
safe  against  the  cliances  of  my  company  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  would,"  said  Willoughby  ;  but  he  said 
this  with  a  less  ready  assent  than  miglit  have  been 


THE   GKEEN-EYED   MONSTER.  95 

expected  from  one  who  could  not  but  have  been 
liappy  at  the  chance  to  get  Phoebe  away  from  tlie 
danger  he  now  imagined. 

For  a  perverse  humor  now  suggested  a  wonder 
whether  the  Yankee  officer — in  a  minute  the  friend 
of  his  romantic  adventures  liad  become  a  mere 
''Yankee  officer" — had  not  some  undeclared  pur- 
pose behind  his  proposition.  As  the  women  were 
now,  they  had  tlie  guarantee  of  the  lionor  of  an 
officer  under  the  constant  observation  of  his  men. 
Outside  Pembroke's  lines  a  few  shots  mio^ht  remove 
Willoughby  and  the  others.  Nobody  could  ever 
tell  who  fired  those  shots,  and  Phoebe  would  be  in 
the  hands  of  her  new  admirer  without  even  that 
thin  defence. 

Jealousy  knows  no  limit  in  the  extravagance  of 
its  apprehensions. 

"Your  thought  that  we  might  be  assailed  and 
overwhelmed  any  night,"  said  Pembroke,  "and 
the  reflection  of  what  might  then  happen  to  them, 
made  me  suppose  that  you  would  like  to  undertake 
to  guide  them  to  some  safe  place.  You  can  be 
paroled  to  go  for  that  purpose,  if  you  care  to,  but  I 
do  not  urge  it." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Willoughby,  "  there  is  a  possible 
danger  here ;  but  outside  your  lines  evil  is  even 
raore^imminent.  In  this  part  of  Virginia  there  is 
no  government  of  law,  and  the  men  in  arms,  though 
they  call  themselves  soldiers,  are  not  always  true  to 
the  name." 

'•You  do  not  care,  then,  to  make  this  effort?" 


96  *'  AS   WE  WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  tlieii,  I  would  suggest  another  step,  also 
with  a  view  to  the  welfare  of  these  ladies.  We  are 
out  of  rations.  Men  whom  we  send  out  to  forage 
either  get  lost  in  the  wilderness  or  are  captured; 
the}^  never  return.*  We  are  on  an  uncertain  run, 
and  are  at  best  so  far  from  our  destination  that  there 
is  likely  to  be  suffering  from  hunger  before  we 
reacli  it.  Therefore  I  propose  that  you  on  parole 
leave  the  camp,  alone,  and  endeavor  to  help  us  ; 
that  if  you  find  a  farm-house  you  send  food  for  the 
women  ;  always  with  the  understanding  that  if  you 
find  Union  troops  you  report  us,  with  the  guarantee 
of  your  parole,  and  if  you  fall  into  the  hands  of 
Southern  troops  you  are  free,  but  must  keep  our 
secret,  while  doing  all  that  you  may  in  honor  to 
help  the  Braxtons." 

Only  one  thought  went  through  Willoughby's 
mind  as  he  heard  this  out,  and  that  was : 

"  He  is  determined  to  get  rid  of  me,  one  way  or 
another." 

Pembroke  was  surprised  at  Willoughby's  in- 
difference to  this  proposition,  and  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  it;  and  w^lien  Willoughby  said  that 
he  "  would  like  to  think  it  over,"  Pembroke  left 
him,  with  the  conviction  that  there  was  something 
in  him  that  he  did  not  understand. 

From  that  interview  the  Major  went  and  called 

*We  bad  lost  in  Ibis  way  at  tbat  time  scvcu  privates,  a  ser- 
geant, and  a  corporal. 


THE   GEEEN-EYED   MOKSTEIl.  97 

upon  the  ladies.  His  mind  was  easy  about  tlie 
Braxtons  as  to  tlie  point  at  least  that  had  been  in  it 
when  he  first  sat  down  with  Willoughby,  and  some 
reaction  provoked  the  notion  that  he  had  done  them 
injustice,  and  he  wished  now  to  make  such  reparation 
as  there  mio^ht  be  in  courteous  attention. 

Every  daughter  of  Eve  has,  I  suppose,  enongh  of 
the  feminine  instinct  to  put  up  a  hand  and  feel  if 
her  hair  is  properly  adjusted  as  she  suddenly  finds 
herself  in  the  presence  of  a  man ;  perhaps,  even, 
every  woman  has  enough  coquetry  to  want  to  pro- 
duce a  good  effect  upon  any  man  she  meets — for  is 
not  that  the  designated  purpose  of  her  charms  ?  It 
is  therefore  not  a  point  of  great  consequence  that 
nobody  ever  saw  Phoebe  in  our  camp  but  her 
toilet  was  as  scrupulously  and  daintily  made  as  the 
Major's  own,  and  he  was  one  of  the  men  who  in- 
dulged himself  to  an  extreme  degree  in  that  piece 
of  military  foppery  of  wanting  to  be  always  ready 
to  die  in  clean  linen  and  with  his  hair  parted. 

It  must  have  had  some  peculiar  effect  upon  the 
Major  that  afternoon  to  find  Phoebe  so  resplendently 
beautiful  in  the  simplicity  of  her  toilet ;  for  his 
call  was  very  short.  Some  agitation  interfered  with 
his  enjoyment  of  that  pleasant  company,  and  soon 
after  he  had  left  them  Mrs.  Chichester  and  Phoebe 
came  forth  and  also  made  a  call  upon  Willoughby. 
They  talked  very  earnestly  for  many  minutes; 
they  talked  of  tlie  project  of  their  all  leaving  the 
camp  together,  and  Phoebe  was  against  it ;  they 
talked  of  Willoughby's  going  alone,  and  Phoebe  was 
7 


98 

ill  favor  of  it,  whereupon  Willoiigliby  became  ob- 
stinately silent.  Then  Mrs.  Cliichester  walked  away 
a  little,  but  Phoebe  stayed  with  Willoughby. 

Willoughby  spoke  suddenly  and  rapidly. 

"  The  Yankee  Major,"  he  said  with  the  irritation 
and  half-anger  of  a  jealous  man,  and  watching  her 
as  if  he  spoke  rather  to  see  the  effect  his  words 
would  have  than  merely  to  convey  a  thought,  "  the 
Major  wishes  that  you  may  love  him." 

"  He  is  not  so  foolish,"  she  said  with  a  perfectly 
natural  air.  "  How  can  he  imagine  that  I  should 
love  two  men  at  once?  But  he  has  not  by  word  or 
otherwise  treated  me  in  any  way  but  with  the  most 
distant  and  respectful  courtesy." 

^*  Ah,  he  is  an  adroit  one.  He  would  not  go  be- 
yond cool  courtesy  unless  certain  that  a  more  famil- 
iar style  would  be  welcome." 

"Well,  if  he  waits  to  adopt  a  more  familiar  style 
until  he  shall  see  in  my  conduct  some  evidence  that 
it  would  be  welcome,  he  will  wait  at  least  as  long  as 
you,  Arthur,  can  desire." 

"  You  can  scarcely  comprehend  what  precautions 
may  bo  necessary  with  such  a  man." 

"  He  is  a  man  of  honor,  Arthur." 

"  I  wish  you  had  never  seen  him,  Phoebe." 

"  It  was  not  my  fault  that  I  saw  him." 

"  You  reproach  me  for  doing  what  I  was  tempted 
to  do  by  the  desire  to  see  you." 

"I  do  not  reproach  you  ;  but  if  I  did,  it  would  be 
because,  having  brought  me  into  such  relations,  your 
own  faith  is  the  first  to  fail." 


THE   GREEN^-EYED    MONSTER.  99 

And  thus  were  Arthur  and  Phoebe  fairly  started 
down  the  incline  of  that  dangerous  indulgence,  a 
lover's  quarrel. 

"We  got  away  from  that  camp  at  nightfall,  intend- 
ing to  make  five  miles  and  rest ;  one  of  the  princi- 
pal points  involved  in  this  short  march  being  that 
it  was  high  time  we  changed  our  position,  because 
it  might  have  been  studied  by  some  one  for  a  night- 
attack  ;  and  once  on  foot  to  get  away  from  that  pos- 
sibility, it  did  not  seem  worth  while  to  move  less 
than  five  miles.  We  cut  loose  from  all  the  darkies 
except  those  we  could  make  use  of  as  guides,  and 
the  women  went  with  us  because  they  were  afraid 
to  be  left  in  this  wild  region  alone,  and  the  Major 
felt  himself  responsible  for  their  welfare. 

We  made  our  five  miles  that  night,  and  made 
twenty  the  next  day.  Half-rations  was  all  we  had 
now,  and  moving  in  this  stony  wilderness  of  the 
mountain-top,  we  had  not  seen  a  house  nor  an  ear 
of  corn.  Some  of  the  men  got  two  little  thin  sheep 
on  the  second  day's  march,  the  little  remnants  per- 
haps of  some  larger  number  that  had  been  driven 
away  to  feed  the  enemy.  At  the  end  of  our  twenty- 
five  miles  we  called  the  place  "  Camp  Hungry  Man's 
Home."  From  that  camp  the  Major  sent  out  next' 
day  ten  men  to  skyugle  through  the  whole  region 
for  supplies  and  information.  We  never  saw  any 
of  those  men  again,  though  we  did  not  march  for  a 
day.  At  peep  of  day  we  were  on  foot  again.  This 
was  the  sixth  day  from  the  time  we  had  left  Brax- 


100 

ton  House,  and  we  had  lived  all  this  time  on  the 
rations  that  Lieutenant  Wood  had  hastily  packed  on 
our  four  mules  that  night.  But  we  had  now  reached 
the  head  of  the  ridge  or  spur  we  were  on,  and  were 
descending  from  the  mountain  somewhat  on  the 
western  slope.  The  darkies  said  we  were  making 
for  Winchester.  We  estimated  that  day's  march  at 
ten  miles. 

We  halted  at  a  place  the  darkies  called  Corksci-ew 
Cut,  though  why  they  did  not  know. 

It  was  a  queer  place.  All  one  side  was  covered 
by  the  perpendicular  rocky  wall  of  mountain  at  the 
foot  of  which  we  stood  and  from  which  sloped  out 
a  wide  and  pleasant  plateau.  The  edge  of  this  pla- 
teau was  the  brow  of  another  steep  descent,  as  if  the 
mountain  went  down  in  natural  terraces  or  great 
steps.  But  we  had  come  into  this  place  at  one  end, 
and  the  way  down  the  mountain  was  at  the  other 
end,  for  we  were  yet  far  above  the  level  of  the 
valley. 

We  were  now  at  a  critical  point  in  our  progress. 
If  we  stayed  on  the  mountain,  we  should  all  starve  to 
death ;  if  we  went  down,  we  might  march  into  the 
enemy's  lines,  for  we  could  only  guess  at  the  pos- 
sibility of  movements  of  troops  that  had  taken  place 
in  those  days.  But  the  boys  were  used  to  such 
critical  possibilities,  and  they  did  not  lie  awake 
thinking  about  our  position.  Neither,  I  suppose, 
did  the  ladies,  because  to  march  into  a  town  held 
by  the  enemy's  troops  could  not  especially  distress 
them. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

willoughby's  depaettjee. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  day  we  spent  in  Corkscrew 
Cut  Major  Pembroke  invited  tlie  ladies  and  the  pris- 
oners to  dine  with  him  on  the  parade,  and  the  boys 
who  had  charge  of  the  headquarters  mess  had  a  lively 
time  getting  ready  for  that  little  feast.  It  is  never 
very  easy  to  prepare  a  banquet  in  time  of  famine, 
but  the  effort  stimulates  imagination,  and  that  day 
the  boys  actually  found  a  lean  heifer  somewhere  on 
the  mountain-side. 

Tlie  point  of  this  little  spree  was  the  proposed 
departure  of  Willoughby ;  for  it  appears  that  he 
had  that  day  reconsidered  his  refusal,  and  sent  word 
to  the  Major  that  he  would  willingly  try  his  fortune 
as  a  scout  in  the  valley. 

Some  of  the  boys  joked  between  themselves  about 
the  Major's  attentiveness  to  the  ladies.  They  thought 
his  heart  was,  maybe,  caught  in  the  glances  of  Miss 
Phoebe's  beautiful  eyes.  And  as  the  Major  was  an 
extremely  handsome  man  and  a  man  of  the  most 
engaging  and  amiable  manners,  it  was  thought  to  be 
rather  unfortunate  for  Captain  Willoughby  that  his 
fair  sweetheart  had  fallen  into  such  pleasant  com- 
pany. 


102 

My  own  opinion  at  that  time  was  that  the  Major's 
eyes  had  more  effect  upon  Miss  Braxton  than  hers 
upon  him.  He  could  not  but  liave  admired  her. 
I  would  defy  any  man  in  that  respect.  Neither 
could  any  man  have  failed  to  react  with  all  his 
sympathies  to  the  case  of  a  refined  and  charming 
little  lady  suddenly  dragged  out  from  the  dainty 
and  maidenly  reserve  of  her  home  life,  and  rushed 
through  such  a  rough  bit  of  campaigning  experience, 
living  in  camp  with  a  pretty  tough  crowd  of  soldiers, 
carried  thronsih  the  eds^e  of  a  hard  mountain-iio^ht 
at  the  first  start,  and  so  doubtful  of  the  future  that 
she  contemplated  with  terror  the  moment  when  she 
should  be  parted  from  all  these  rough  enemies. 

Therefore  the  Major  may  have  felt  tenderly  to- 
ward her,  and  no  doubt  did ;  but  it  seemed  to  me, 
from  the  moment  that  I  saw  Miss  Phoebe  after  the 
Major  called  upon  the  ladies  for  the  first  time  in 
'•  Camp  Git-away,"  that  there  was  a  difference  in  her. 
Some  change  had  come  over  the  little  lady's  life  ; 
and  I  have  always  thought  that  in  that  little  half- 
hour  when  the  Major  had  chatted  with  Phoebe  and 
her  old  aunty  together,  and  tried  perhaps  to  excuse 
himself  from  the  accusation  of  any  presumed  w^ant 
of  gallantry,  then  and  there,  the  dear  little  woman 
had  fallen  in  love  with  that  fine,  courteous  and  gal- 
lant gentleman. 

She  in  all  probability  did  not  know  it ;  and  if 
anybody  had  spoken  to  this  effect,  she  would  have 
resented  what  the  observation  might  imply  as  to 
frivolity  in  her  affections.    But  the  case  was  clear  to 


willoughby's  departure.  103 

me,  and  I  certainly  did  not  blame  ber.  Willongliby 
was  no  doubt  a  pleasant,  good-looking  fellow,  but 
not  a  man  to  be  mentioned  on  tbe  same  day  with 
the  Major.  And  though  when  a  woman  loves  a 
man  I  suppose  she  sees  him  in  a  very  different  light 
from  that  in  which  he  appears  to  others,  yet  I 
doubt  if  a  woman  could  ever  get  her  senses  so  over- 
whelmed in  that  kind  of  delusion  as  not  to  note  the 
contrast  between  two  such  men,  especially  if  she  be 
placed  with  regard  to  them  as  Miss  Braxton  was  in 
our  camp. 

As  the  boys  talked  this  over  they  kept  on  with 
their  preparations.  We  had  found  near  by  a  lumber- 
man's shed,  which  we  had  used  for  kindling-wood, 
all  but  the  door,  and  out  of  that  we  made  a  table, 
supported  upon  stakes  driven  into  the  ground.  For 
seats  the  ladies  had  cracker-boxes,  and  the  others 
had  the  pads  of  the  mule-harness  with  coats  thrown 
over. 

Our  polished  tin  cups  and  our  knives  and  forks 
gave  the  table  the  appearance  of  a  bric-a-brac  deal- 
er's lay-out. 

There  was  a  beefsteak  for  the  grand  dish.  It 
was  cooked  by  one  of  our  fellows  who  could  broil 
meat  over  any  smoky  lire  and  without  a  gridiron — 
a  thing  that  every  one  can't  do.  His  plan  was  to 
have  the  pan  very  hot  and  very  dry, — that  is,  no 
grease  in  it, — and  to  put  the  steak  in  then,  and  turn 
it  often  ;  the  outside  burned  into  a  little  crust  and 
kept  the  juice  in. 

It  was  a  bright  company,  but  thej^  were  a  little 


104  ''AS   WE   WEKT   MARCHING   ON." 

awkward  when  tliey  first  sat  down.  The  old  lady, 
however,  soon  got  them  over  that. 

"  Major  Pembroke,"  she  said,  "  there  is  one  thing 
in  regard  to  your  house  here  on  the  mountain  that 
I  like  very  much.     You  have  no  rats." 

At  this  sally  there  was  a  general  laugh  of  pleasant 
surprise. 

"Yes,"  she  went  on,  "it  is  a  great  advantage. 
At  Braxton  we  are  overrun  with  them,  and  thej^ 
are  a  dreadful  plague.  You  can  scarcely  under- 
stand, I  suppose,  what  a  comfort  it  is,  when  you  hap- 
pen to  wake  in  the  night,  not  to  liear  those  mis- 
chievous creatures  rattling  up  nnd  down  in  the  wall 
or  gnawing  at  the  beams." 

"Well,"  said  the  Major,  "we  are  delighted  to 
know  that  our  hospitality  is  not  entirely  without  its 
agreeable  side.  I  hope  that  Miss  Braxton  has  also 
found  something  that  may  lighten  in  her  thoughts 
its  rougher  features." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  also  have  found  at  least  one 
good  point  in  your  house ;  it  is  not  lonesome." 

As  she  said  this  with  a  ladylike  tranquillity,  ac- 
quitting herself  of  an  obligation  to  which  she  had 
been  challenged,  her  eyes  turned  softly  and  confi- 
dently toward  Willoughby,  and  that  poor  fellow 
imagined  he  was  the  object  of  the  pleasant  thought 
behind  this  observation.  But  I  saw  that  he  was  not, 
and  I  believe  that  old  Aunt  Hetty  saw  it  also.  For 
the  glance  at  "Willoughby  was  full  of  the  confidence 
that  a  girl  has  toward  a  fellow  of  little  moment ; 
but  the  timidity  with  which  she  tried  to  keep  her 


willoughby's  departure.  105 

eyes  away  from  those  of  Pembroke's  and  the  ner- 
vous uneasiness  which  she  could  not  control  told 
another  story. 

"Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen/'  said  Lieutenant 
Wood,  "upon  me  honor  it  is  not  altogether  the 
worst  house  we  ever  were  in  ;  far  from  it,  indeed, 
especially  when  we  consider  the  presence  of  the 
ladies,  and  the  honor  they  do  to  our  table.  But 
there  is  one  pynt  in  respect  to  which  I  would  be 
glad  to  change  many  a  house  like  this  against  one 
like  Braxton  House.  We  have  none  of  the  doc- 
thor's  foine  old  Medayrah." 

Hereupon  the  doctor  and  the  lieutenant  dropped 
into  a  pleasant  consideration  of  the  merits  of  the 
different  kinds  of  Madeira,  and  the  thoughts  thus 
excited  may  have  flavored  the  simple  beverage  the 
boys  had  brought  them. 

Although  there  was  an  evident  effort  to  be  cheery 
over  that  feast,  it  dragged  a  little,  for  all  but  Wil- 
loughby ;  since  the  ladies  and  the  old  doctor,  who 
knew  of  Willoughby's  departure,  could  not  but 
feel  imcertain  of  the  issue,  though  it  was  their 
best  hope  for  a  happy  end  to  an  enforced  adven- 
ture. Bat  Willoughby  himself  was  almost  un- 
naturally gay.  This  may  have  been  another  exhibi- 
tion of  that  peculiarity  of  his  character  to  which 
he  had  referred  when  he  told  the  Major  how  hap- 
py he  was  when  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  kill 
himself.  Doubts  and  uncertainties  were  the  only 
things  that  overwhelmed  him.  In  the  face  of  any 
certainty,  however  bad,  he   could  be   gay.     Thus 


106 

having  concluded  to  leave  the  camp  as  the  Major 
had  proposed,  he  had  suddenly  become  the  most 
cheerful  one  of  the  companj^,  and  laughed  with  a 
liglit  heart,  and  quoted  Sliakspeai'e. 

One  quotation  he  made  seemed  so  apt  that  old 
Braxton  thanked  him  for  it,  and  said  tlie  words 
comforted  him.     It  was  : 

**  All  places  that  the  eye  of  Heaven  visits 
Are  to  a  wise  man  ports  and  happy  havens." 

IS'obody  lingered  at  table,  therefore,  and  as  it 
was  determined  that  Willoughbj  should  start  at 
once,  while  there  was  yet  a  bit  of  daylight,  he  was 
accompanied  on  his  way  by  all  those  who  had  sup- 
ped with  him.  But  the  Major  and  Lieutenant  Wood 
only  went  about  twenty  yards  beyond  our  pickets ; 
while  the  ladies  and  the  doctor  went  a  good  way 
farther,  and  did  not  return  until  the  Major  had  be- 
gun to  feel  a  little  uneasy  about  them. 

Willoughby  went  ahead  upon  his  adventure  as 
cheerily,  perhaps,  aside  from  his  hysterical  gayety, 
as  any  other  man  could  possibly  have  gone  with  the 
same  incentives  at  once  to  go  and  to  stay. 

He  had  his  freedom  in  his  hands,  but  in  the  cir- 
cumstances he  probably  did  not  set  an  extravagant 
value  upon  it ;  and  what  gallant  young  fellow  leav- 
ing his  lady-love  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  ex- 
posed to  all  the  frowns  and  caprices  of  Step-mother 
Fortune,  would  have  valued  more  highly  than  he  did 
this  singular  negative  that  we  have  deified  with  the 


TTILLOUGnUY's   DEPARTURE.  107 

name  of  freedom — this  mere  absence  of  restraint 
upon  one's  will  ? 

Willoughby's  recent  experiences  had  taught  him 
the  wisdom  of  a  careful  advance  in  any  region  which 
might  be  held  by  troops ;  so  that  from  the  moment 
he  left  the  camp,  even  on  the  rugged  rocky  crest  of 
the  hill,  he  was  attentive  to  every  sight  and  sound. 
In  that  spirit  he  went  on  until  he  gained  the  line  of 
heavy  timber  half  way  down  the  mountain ;  and 
through  the  dim  grand  aisles  of  the  woodland — 
aisles  whose  arches  were  pillared  by  oaks  and  chest- 
nuts of  a  century's  growth — he  kept  his  way  in  the 
same  spirit,  startled  many  a  time  by  the  scurry  of 
the  squirrel  and  the  scream  of  the  jay,  but  finding 
ever  that  his  solitude  was  complete  as  to  humanity. 

He  had  avoided  every  opportunity  to  get  imme- 
diately down  into  the  valley  by  old  wood-roads  or 
neighborhood  paths,  because  these  are  generally 
through  a  somewhat  open  region,  and  he  appre- 
hended that  if  he  approached  any  spot  in  the  pos- 
session of  either  our  men  or  the  enemy,  he  would 
be  seen  as  soon  as  he  saw,  and  might  not  be  able  to 
get  away  even  if  he  chose.  Consequently  he  lost  a 
great  deal  of  time  in  keeping  along  the  wooded 
brow  of  the  mountain  for  many  a  mile  to  find  a  spot 
from  which  he  could  study  the  valley  before  going 
down  to  it. 

He  found  at  last  an  apparently  satisfactory  place. 
There  was  a  sort  of  arm  of  the  mountain-land,  a 
kind  of  wooded  promontory  which  ran  out  into  the 
valley  almost  at  a  right  angle  with  the  general  dircc- 


108 

tion  of  the  ridge,  and  from  which  he  rightly  judged 
he  could  get  a  view  above  and  below  of  the  open 
region,  while  it  was  probable  that  a  road  skirted  at 
its  extremity  the  foot  of  this  high  point. 

But  here  he  found  the  same  difficulty  that  he  had 
found  all  along  the  side  of  the  main  ridge :  it  was 
easier  to  scan  the  far,  far-away  parts  of  the  valley  than 
to  inspect  parts  nearer  by,  because  the  whole  slope 
here  also  was  timbered,  and  at  any  point  he  might 
place  himself  his  view  was  intercepted  by  the  tops 
of  trees  whose  roots  were  thirty  or  forty  or  even  a 
hundred  feet  below  him.  He  was  sure,  however, 
that  sooner  or  later  he  w^ould  find  an  open  place 
from  which  he  could  get  a  good  lookout,  and  so  he 
continued  his  tramp.  But  now  he  began  to  hear 
familiar  noises ;  first  a  far-away  bugle-call  came  so 
faintly,  yet  so  naturally,  that  it  hardly  attracted  his 
attention,  for  at  that  moment  he  was  critically  con- 
sidering in  his  inmost  thought  whether  it  was  be- 
cause Phoebe's  eyebrows  were  in  line  with  one 
another  and  made  almost  two  parts  of  a  straight  line 
that  her  forehead  had  so  fine  an  effect,  and  why 
nature  had  not  made  all  women's  eyebrows  that 
way. 

But  the  distant  bugle-call  was  repeated,  and  there 
was  a  far-away  screaming  of  hungry  mules ;  and  one 
sound  following  another,  it  suddenly  dawned  upon 
the  Captain's  mind,  with  all  the  effect  of  a  grand 
discovery,  that  the  air  about  him  was  filled  with  the 
noises  of  an  army  encamped  or  on  the  march. 

What  army  was  it  ? 


WJLLOUGHBY^S   DEPARTURE.  109 

If  it  was  a  Southern  army,  did  he  want  to  make 
liimself  known,  return  to  his  dut}",  and  leave  Phccbe 
in  the  mountains  in  such  circumstances?  If  it  was 
a  ]^orthern  army,  what  was  best  to  be  done  ? 

But  he  must  first  ascertain  what  army  it  was,  and 
ascertain  quickly,  because  there  was  not  a  great  deal 
of  daylight  left. 

In  the  hope  to  get  a  glimpse  of  what  was  going 
on  in  the  direction  from  which  these  sounds  came, 
and  perhaps  to  be  able  to  see  enough  to  solve  the 
doubt  as  to  what  troops  they  were  he  heard,  the 
Captain  conceived  the  notion  of  surveying  the  scene 
from  the  branches  of  one  of  the  tall  trees  about 
him.  If  one  is  already  on  the  side  of  a  mountain 
he  is  not,  to  be  sure,  a  great  deal  higher  for  being  at 
the  top  of  a  tree,  but  that  little  elevation  of  thirty 
or  forty  feet  puts  him  above  the  surrounding  obsta- 
cle of  the  foliage  of  other  trees ;  and  in  fact  a  tree 
top  was  a  very  common  site  for  a  signal-station  with 
the  armies  on  both  sides. 

He  selected  his  tree  in  a  little  while — a  tall,  enor- 
mous chestnut  which  stood  just  at  the  outermost 
point  of  the  promontory.  As  the  mountain-side 
fell  away  somewhat  steeply  at  that  place,  the  top  of 
this  tree  stood  out  in  the  forest  almost  as  a  church- 
steeple  does  in  a  landscape ;  yet  from  the  ground  at 
the  root  of  this  tree  the  view  of  the  valley  was  en- 
tirely shut  out  by  the  tops  of  the  trees  that  grew  on 
the  downward  slope. 

Now  the  stem  of  this  patriarch  of  the  woods  stood 
like  a  doric  column,  straight  and  smooth  for  thirty 


110  ''^AS   WE    WENT   MARCniXG   ON." 

feet  witliont  a  branch,  and  larger  about  than  the 
bulge  of  a  large  barrel. 

Consequently  to  mount  into  the  branches  of  this 
tree  by  climbing  its  own  stem  in  the  usual  way  was 
not  possible,  for  no  human  arms  could  grasp  itwitli 
"  purchase"  enough  to  sustain  a  man's  weight ;  but 
the  problem  thus  presented  of  how  to  get  up  had 
been  solved  by  the  superabundant  readiness  of  pro- 
lific Nature,  who  miglit  almost  be  supposed  to  have 
imagined  that  such  a  need  would  arise. 

"Within  the  space  shaded  by  tlie  branches  of 
the  chestnut  several  smaller  trees  had  sprouted,  but 
had  not  flourished.  They  maintained  a  doubtful 
existence  in  the  shadow  of  the  giant,  as  small  traders 
do  in  the  presence  of  some  great  monopolist.  They 
were  nature's  reserve  of  recruits,  ready  to  fill  the 
place  of  the  veteran  when  he  should  go  down  in 
some  tremendous  battle  of  the  November  elements. 
In  this  second  line  of  the  forest  army  one  tree  was 
more  vigorous  than  the  others,  and  had  puslied  liis 
way  to  the  sunshine,  sending  a  straight  stem  far  up 
between  the  branches  of  the  senior.  This  was  a  thrifty 
oak  of  ten  summers  whose  stem  Avas  just  of  convenient 
size  for  climbing,  and  whose  rough  coat  was  a  help 
to  tlie  climber,  while  above  the  stem  of  the  oak  was 
against  one  of  the  main  branches  of  the  chest- 
nut. 

Up  this  smaller  tree  Captain  Willougliby  went 
with  comparative  ease  and  celerity,  and  reaching  the 
branch  against  which  it  grew,  made  his  way  along 
that  to  a  point  on  the  chestnut  from  which  he  had  a 


willoughby's  departure.  Ill 

good  lookout,  and  could  see  all  tliat  was  then  to  be 
seen  in  the  valley. 

But  tills  was  not  a  great  deal,  for  the  night  had 
come  as  suddenly  as  if  a  curtain  were  drawn.  Here 
and  there  in  the  landscape  he  could  see  a  fire  like 
the  bivoiiac-fire  of  troops  halted  for  the  night ;  he 
could  hear  also  the  far-away  murmur  of  moving 
regiments  and  wagons,  but  could  get  no  definite 
information  from  any  of  these  facts. 

He  had  had  his  climb  for  nothing;  but  no,  not 
entirely  for  nothing,  because  he  now  made  one 
pleasant  discovery. 

In  some  early  calamity  of  its  life  this  old  chestnut 
had  lost  the  upper  part  of  its  main  stem,  which  had 
been  broken  away  at  that  very  point  at  which  the 
large  main  branches  started  out.  Consequently 
these  main  branches  were  disposed  like  the  frame  of 
a  crib,  and  the  space  between  was  a  roomy  hollow 
filled  just  now  with  an  inviting  bed  of  leaves,  the 
leaves  of  many  summers,  perhaps,  which  had  gath- 
ered and  decayed  there  year  after  year.  The  Cap- 
tain perceived  in  this  a  good  halting- place,  and  a  not 
uncomfortable  one  in  which  to  pass  the  night. 

Willoughby  congratulated  himself  upon  the  good 
fortune  of  this  discovery,  as  he  snuggled  down  in 
this  happy  hollow  with  the  satisfaction  of  one  who 
is  weary  at  once  with  worry  and  with  bodily  fatigue. 

His  muscles  were  worn  w^ith  his  day's  march  ;  his 
mind  was  worn  with  anxiety  as  to  the  chances  of  his 
present  attempt ;  and  he  felt  that  the  way  would 
seem  clearer  to  him  for  some  hours  of  sleep. 


112 

How  delicious  is  tlie  languor  with  wliicli  we  "  turn 
in"  away  from  tlie  world,  from  doubts,  uncertain- 
ties, dangers,  discomforts,  in  such  a  moment ! 

IS'ot  a  squirrel  on  the  branches  could  be  safer  from 
the  scrutiny  of  any  chance  stranger  who  might  pass 
below  than  he  was,  and  at  the  first  peep  of  day  he 
would  be  able  to  see  just  what  he  might  venture  in 
the  valley. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  drowsy  charm  came  over  his 
senses,  but  he  did  not  immediately  fall  into  a  sound 
sleep.  He  was  perhaps  rather  too  weary  for  that, 
and  in  his  restlessness  worked  himself  deeper  into 
his  soft  bed,  and  found  it  all  the  pleasanter  for  this. 
He  did  not  notice,  however,  that  his  feet  had  worked 
their  way  into  what  seemed  a  free  place,  had  in  fact 
been  forced  through  the  loose  tissue  of  leaves  that 
constituted  his  bed  ;  for  these  leaves  matted  together 
only  in  decay  did  not  afford  a  great  deal  of  resist- 
ance, and  the  feet  of  the  sleeper  were  actually 
hanging  through  his  mattress  in  an  undefined  hollow 
of  the  tree  below  him.  He  did  not  notice  this  as  he 
turned  over  once  more  in  his  first  uneasy  sleep ;  but 
that  turn  broke  a  way  for  his  whole  body  through 
the  mattress  of  leaves,  and  then — 

He  was  startled  as  one  who  dreams  he  has  fallen 
over  a  precipice ;  but,  crushed,  bruised,  hurt,  and 
left  unconscious,  he  did  not  awaken  to  know  that  it 
was  onl}^  a  dream. 

As  soon  as  he  gathered  his  wits  together  a  little, 
his  first  thought  was  that  he  had  fallen  from  the 
tree  and  was  lying  bruised  at  the  bottom,  or  among 


willouguby's  departure.  113 

tlie  broken,  craggy  stones  down  the  side  of  the  hilh 
But  liow  was  it  then  that  he  could  not  stir ;  that 
he  could  scarcely  breathe  ;  that  his  arms,  straight 
out  above  his  head,  were  held  there  by  some  inde- 
finable force,  so  that  he  could  not  mov^e  them  ;  that 
lie  could  not  bend  his  body  nor  lift  a  foot? 

"Was  it  a  dream,  and  was  this  some  horrible  niglit- 
mare  ? 

Alas,  no  !  Captain  Willoughby  was  lodged  in  the 
hollow  of  the  old  chestnut,  far  down  near  to  its 
roots.  His  bed  of  leaves  had  been  only  a  deceptive 
cover  to  this  dreadful  trap,  for  the  straight,  enor- 
mous stem  of  the  tree  was  only  a  monstrous  tube, 
like  a  great  organ-pipe,  and  into  this  tube,  his  body 
falUng  from  on  high,  and  driven  by  its  own  weight, 
was  forced  to  the  end,  and  there  held  as  closely  al- 
most as  if  he  had  been  built  into  a  w\all  of  solid 
masonry. 

There  we  shall  leave  him  for  the  present,  vaguely 
wondering  whether  the  tough  sapwood  that  bound 
him  in  was  the  wood  of  his  coffin,  but  gamely  ad- 
dressing his  reasoning  faculties  to  that  grand  but 
common  human  problem,  how  to  get  out  of  the  hole 
into  which  a  malign  destiny  had  dropped  him. 
8 


CHAPTEK  X. 

CUE   LAST    CAMP-FIKE. 

That  evening  we  had  a  parade  on  the  level  plateau, 
and  turned  out  in  good  shape  what  was  left  of  the 
company — about  twenty-two  boys  that  had  fought 
at  Yorktown,  Williamsburg,  Fair  Oaks,  Savage 
Station,  Frazer's  Farm,  and  Malvern  Hills. 

The  two  ladies  and  the  old  doctor  came  out  to  see 
the  show,  and  wlien  the  parade  was  over  they  and 
the  Major  enjoyed  a  promenade  to  and  fro  across  the 
front  of  the  plateau,  which  was  so  much  like  the 
battlement  of  an  ancient  fortress  that  an  old-time 
chevalier  or  feudal  lord  might  have  felt  at  home 
there. 

In  all  my  marches  I  never  saw  such  a  sunset  as 
we  saw  that  day.  For  two  days  the  weather  had 
been  dry  and  breezy  ;  and  though  the  air  was  fresh 
and  still,  it  was  summer  air,  and  it  gave  one  an 
ecstatic  pleasure  to  breathe  it  and  live  in  it.  Below 
us  spread  that  wonderful  piece  of  country,  the  Shen- 
andoah Yalley,  more  beautiful,  I  am  sure,  than  any 
Garden  of  Eden  ever  was ;  and  behind  the  farther 
wall  of  that  valley  the  sun  went  down  red  fierce  and 
slow  like  a  giant  at  bay,  disputing  his  ground  by 
inches,  and  filling  the  heavens  with  the  glory  of  his 
battle. 


OUR   LAST    CAMP-FIRE.  115 

It  was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  Major  and 
the  ladies  enjoj-ed  tliis  promenade. 

Present!}^,  however,  the  doctor  and  the  old  lady 
grew  weary,  and  sat  down  at  one  end  of  this  reach 
of  promenade ;  but  the  Major  and  the  fair  Phoebe 
kept  on,  and  entertained  one  another  with  the  pleas- 
ant interchange  of  ideas  that  may  flow  from  such 
circumstances. 

At  this  time  I  was  on  post  as  sentinel  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  plateau,  and  as  their  promenade  ^vhen 
they  came  that  way  reached  to  within  a  few  feet  of 
where  I  paced  my  beat,  I  caught  from  time  to  time, 
and  in  a  fragmentary  way,  a  little  of  what  they  said  ; 
and  I  listened,  not  to  hear  the  words,  but  only  to 
hear  the  witchery  of  that  woman's  voice ;  yet  the 
words  came  to  me,  of  course. 

All  that  I  heard  them  say  ran,  strangely  enough, 
upon  one  subject,  and  a  pleasant  subject,  for  it  was 
provoked  by  the  word  Cupid,  and  touched  upon  the 
figurative  representations  of  the  passion  of  love. 
Perhaps  that  is  not  an  unnatural  theme  between  a 
gentleman  and  a  lady  who  do  not  feel  so  deeply  in- 
terested in  one  another  but  that  they  may  treat  this 
passion  in  a  tone  of  pleasant  raillery  and  laugh  at  the 
littlegodasan  impostor  and  as  one  who  fools  others. 

But  the  tone  of  frivolity  was  all  on  the  Major's 
side.  The  lady's  words  were  convincingly  serious. 
She  clearly  did  not  regard  love  as  a  joke. 

"That  a  passion  should  be  pictured  as  a  god," 
said  Pembroke,  "implies  the  sovereignty  of   pas- 


116 

"No,"  said  the  lady,  "  it  implies  that  this  passion 
is  pure,  disinterested,  and  absolute  in  its  dominion 
over  the  human  soul." 

And  then  they  passed  down  to  the  other  end  of 
the  promenade  and  I  did  not  hear ;  but  they  appar- 
ently kept  to  the  same  point,  for  as  they  came  again 
I  heard  the  Major  say : 

"  And  yet  under  the  influence  of  this  dominion 
see  wliat  happens  to  every  one,  nearly.  What  a 
mad  intoxication  it  becomes !  How  duty  and  great 
obligations  are  forgotten  while  men  linger  in  the 
enjoyment  of  delights  which  make  one  imagine  that 
the  story  of  the  garden  of  Armida  is  the  most  real 
picture  of  existence." 

"  But,"  said  the  siren- voice,  "  is  not  this  perhaps 
intended  to  teach-  us  that  our  duties  and  obligations 
so  called  are  merely  conventionalities,  to  which  in  a 
perverted  imagination  we  give  an  importance  that 
the}^  do  not  deserve  ?  Is  it  not  nature's  testimony 
that  in  the  struggle  to  succeed  in  life  we  have  taken 
an  erroneous  measure  of  what  is  important,  and  that 
the  fruits  of  this  passion  are  worthier  than  the  things 
that  most  men  pursue  ?" 

Then  it  seemed  to  me  there  was  silence  in  heaven 
for  half  an  hour  more  or  less,  and  they  made  two  or 
three  turns  in  which  I  did  not  hear  a  word.  Next 
time  there  was  more  of  the  light  raillery. 

"And  this  little  god,"  said  the  Major,  "carries  a 
torch  to  set  the  world  aflame  with." 

"No,"  said  the  lady,  "I  should  understand  that 
he  carries  a  torch  in  order  that  those  under  his  do- 


OUR    LAST   CAMP-FIRE.  117 

minion  may  see  life  in  tlie  light  lie  casts  upon  it, 
rather  than  in  the  changeable  light  of  common 
day." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  at  that  moment  the  world 
about  these  two  was  illumined  by  that  peculiar  radi- 
ance, and  that  the  mystic  glimmer  of  the  stars  was 
not  in  conflict  with  it. 

They  walked  on,  and  the  conversation  assumed  a 
different  tone. 

"  In  one  way  or  another,"  said  the  Major,  '•'  we 
are  near  to  the  end  of  an  association  that  misfor- 
tune has  inflicted  upon  you." 

"  Oh,  Major  Pembroke,"  said  Miss  Braxton, 
"  please  say  it  in  some  other  way  ;  for  while  it  is  a 
misfortune,  of  course, — especially  to  Arthur  and 
Aunty  and  Papa, — yet  there  are  other  ways  in  which 
we  will  more  delight  to  remember  much  of  all 
this." 

*'  "Well,"  he  continued,  ''"  I  only  wanted  to  say 
that  it  is  well  to  reflect  upon  the  possibilities  before 
us,  that  we  may  be  the  more  ready  for  whatever 
conies,  and  therefore — " 

"  And  yet,"  she  said,  interrupting,  ''  I  thought 
that  with  the  many  incommodities  of  a  soldier's  life 
there  was  mingled  the  one  charm  of  carelessness  for 
the  future,  and  that  freedom  from  bother  which  is 
found  in  taking  things  as  they  come." 

''Well,"  said  the  Major,  "  that  is  rather  an  ideal 
account  of  it  than  a  true  statement  of  experience  in 
our  army.  Where  can  you  imagine  more  anxiety 
involved  than  in  the  thought  of  a  lost  battle  or  a 


118  ^^AS   WE   WENT  MARCHIKG   ON." 

lost  opportunity  ?  And  then  if  one  liapj)ens  to  be  re- 
sponsible for  the  immediate  safety  of  fair  ladies — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said ;  ^'  bnt  if  we  are  to  part  so 
soon,  that  will  be  over,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  re- 
member it  too  severely  against  us." 

"Come  what  may,"  he  said,  "I  shall  always  hold 
it  as  the  happiest  chance  of  my  life  that  I  met  you." 

And  she  made  a  little  courtesy  as  in  a  merry  mock- 
ceremony  ;  but  the  words  pleased  her. 

''We  are  now,"  said  the  Major  seriously,  "not 
more  than  a  march  from  some  town  or  village  in  the 
valley,  and  from  that  point  we  shall  get  to  Winches- 
ter as  we  are,  or  perhaps  as  prisoners.  I  shall  wait 
here  to-morrow  in  hope  to  hear  from  Captain 
Willoughby,  and  then  go  on,  as  advised  by  him  or 
without  his  advice  ;  for  if  he  does  not  return  or  send, 
it  will  be  a  sign  in  itself." 

"  A  sign  of  what  ?"  she  said. 

"A  sign  that  he  has  fallen  into  Confederate 
hands,  would  not  betray  me,  and  could  not  send  help 
without." 

"Yes,"  she  said  ;  "  or  perhaps  a  sign  of  some  new 
misfortune.     Arthur  is  wonderfully  unlucky." 

"  JSTot  in  one  respect,  at  least,"  said  the  Major. 

But  I  heard  no  more  of  that  conversation,  though 
it  appeared  to  continue ;  for  I  was  relieved  and  went 
to  my  quarters,  where  I  heard  the  boys  discussing 
the  manoeuvre  of  sending  Willoughby  out  as  a 
scout. 

Strangely  enough  there  was  a  sense  of  relieved 
tension ;  a  feeling  of  lightness  of  spirit  such  as  old 


OUR    LAST   CAMP-FIRE.  119 

soldiers  experience  at  tlie  beginniDg  of  a  battle,  be- 
cause they  comprehend  that  the  puzzle  and  labor  of 
marching  and  manoeuvring  and  all  the  nncertaintj 
are  over  and  things  are  to  be  determined  one  way  or 
another  forthwith. 

This  was  due  to  the  universal  prevalence  of  the 
opinion  that  Willoughby  would  betray  us,  and  that 
there  would  be  high  jinks  before  we  wei-e  all  a  day 
older. 

He  was,  if  we  never  saw  him  again,  only  a  pris- 
oner gone,  and  in  that  sense  no  great  loss ;  departure 
made  one  less  mouth  to  feed,  and  he  might  be  of 
service  to  us  as  to  supplies  and  other  assistance. 

All  this  was  clear  enough,  and  as  clearly  admit- 
ted ;  yet  there  were  many  who  did  not  like  this  de- 
parture. 

Some  had  no  other  reason  except  simply  that 
"  they  did  not  like  it."  They  perhaps  had  some  in- 
stinctive perception  of  possible  evil  consequences, 
but  could  not  define  it. 

Others,  bolder  or  more  equal  to  the  occasion  in 
speech,  put  it  clearly  that  "you  can't  trust  one  of 
those  fellows  in  any  circumstances."  They  did  not 
believe  that  an  enemy  could  possibly  find  himself 
possessed  of  an  advantage  without  using  it.  Conse- 
quently they  argued  that  Willoughby's  departure 
meant  trouble  for  us — the  destruction  or  capture  of 
what  was  left  of  the  company  through  his  betrayal 
of  our  position  to  the  enemy;  and  many  a  fellow  lay 
down  in  our  camp  that  night  in  the  absolute  convic- 
tion that  he  would  be  awakened  to  rally  for  the  last 


120 

desperate  figlit  that  Company  II  would  ever  be 
called  upon  to  face. 

My  remembrance  of  the  last  waking  hours  of 
that  ever-memorable  day  is  distinctly  witli  me  yet. 
Our  mess  was  around  a  little  fire,  and  the  boys  had 
eaten  their  supper  and  lighted  their  pipes,  and  were 
talking  over  Willoughby's  departure  and  a  hundred 
other  things  more  or  less  related  to  our  position. 
Wrapped  in  my  blanket,  and  stretched  on  the  cool 
earth  a  dozen  feet  away,  I  fell  into  that  edge  of 
dreamland  where  one  feels  half  the  charm  of  slumber, 
yet  has  a  w^aking  consciousness  of  all  that  is  going  on. 

As  I  lay  that  way,  watching  the  faces  of  the  boys 
illumined  by  the  little  blaze  of  the  camp-fire, — a 
pretty  picture  framed  in  the  infinite  glory  of  the 
night, — I  heard  the  clear,  fine  voice  of  Charley  Otis 
recite  a  poem  that  our  fellows  had  a  great  liking 
for,  and  that  had  been  written  by  one  of  our  com- 
pany. It  was  called  *•  We've  Come  to  Stay,"  and 
was  as  follows: 

"  They  were  uot  pranked  for  dress  parade  ; 
They  wore  DO  plumes;  no  golden  braid 

Glistened  or  gleamed  with  lustre  gay 
On  those  who  through  the  taugled  vines 
Called  with  a  jibe  across  the  lines, 

'Heigh,  Johnnie  Reb,  we've  come  to  stay!' 

"  From  Malvern  IIill&  to  Roanoke, 
In  rain  and  shine  and  battle-smoke, 

Always  alert  and  always  gay; 
In  march  by  night,  and  fight  at  dawn, 
On  many  a  field  their  line  was  drawn : 

And  where  'twas  drawn,  'twas  drawn  to  slay. 


OUR   LAST   CAMP-FIRE.  121 

"  Behind  that  line  that  could  not  yield 
No  rebel  footstep  touched  the  field 

On  which  our  battle-rainbow  rose; 
Behind  that  line  of  fire  and  steel 
The  dead  might  fall,  the  dying  reel, — 

But  only  dead  or  dying  foes. 

"  Ah  me!  too  true  that  battle-cry 
Echoed  to  hearts  then  proud  and  high; 
And  many  a  grave  beside  the  way, 
On  mountain-height,  by  vale  and  stream, 
Or  where  the  woodlands  drowse  and  dream. 
Will  well  attest  they  went  to  stay. 

*  There  they  yet  stand  as  daylight  falls, 
Still  sentinels  on  freedom's  walls; 

And  shall  stand  till  the  final  day. 
And  when  his  bugle-call  divine, 
Gabriel  shall  sound  along  the  line. 

They'll  answer,  '  Here!    We  came  to  stay.'  " 

And  then  another  fellow  gave  a  song  in  a  gayer 
note.  It  was  a  jingle  the  boys  loved  to  hear,  and 
they  called  it  "  The  Fringe  of  Steel." 

"Forward!    Forward!    Forward! 

And  bugles  far  and  fine 
Send  the  brave  order  right  and  left, 

And  onward  sweeps  the  line! 
And  every  soldier's  ready 

And  proudly  fills  his  place; 
For  now  at  last  the  foe  is  here, 

And  we  are  face  to  face. 

'Across  the  open  broken  ground, 
Breast-high  the  river  through, 
And  bravely  up  the  other  slope 
Goes  on  the  line  of  blue. 


122  ''AS  WE   WE]S"T  MARCHING   ON." 

What  tliougli  some  heroes  here  and  there 

The  deadly  reason  feel? 
The  azure  line  sweeps  grandly  on, 

Bearing  its  fringe  of  steel! 

**  And  now  the  air  above  them 

Is  filled  with  bursts  of  foam, 
And  many  an  iron  messenger 

Reaches  his  destined  home; 
And  cannons  play  their  grape-shot 

As  summer  clouds  play  rain, 
And  the  close  file-fire  wakens  death, 

But  all  alike  in  vain ! 

"For,  see,  the  levelled  pieces 

In  the  last  mortal  brunt, 
Right  at  the  muzzles  of  the  guns, 

Carry  the  fringe  iu  front! 
Forward  I    Forward !    Forward ! 

And  bugles  far  and  fine 
Send  the  brave  order  wide  and  free. 

And  onward  goes  the  line!" 

And  tlius  hearing  the  songs  and  stories  and  gab- 
ble of  tlie  boys  about  the  lire,  I  drowsed  away  and 
lost  myself  in  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CUT   TO   PIECES. 

As  nearly  as  I  can  count  an  hour  by  recollection 
of  the  incidents  of  the  night,  it  was  at  about  two 
A.M.,  when  all  seemed  as  peaceful  in  our  little 
camp  as  the  night  may  be  in  a  city  of  the  dead,  that 
the  report  of  a  rifle-shot  rang  out  and  rattled  and 
reverberated  up  the  hills.  Every  man  in  camp  was 
on  foot  in  an  instant.  Sometimes  it  is  true  a  rifle 
is  discharged  by  accident,  even  in  the  night ;  some- 
times a  nervous  soldier  on  picket-duty  will  fire  at 
what  he  only  imagines  is  a  man.  But  everybody 
instinctively  felt  that  there  was  no  accident  this  time. 
Every  one  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  they  who 
had  suspected  the  Confederate  oflicer  were  right ; 
that  he  had  betrayed  our  secret,  and  that  the  enemy 
was  upon  us. 

That  shot  was  fired  at  the  line  of  our  picket  down 
the  hill ;  but  there  was  scarcely  time  to  have  a  doubt 
as  to  its  whereabouts  before  another  shot  settled  it, 
and  then  we  heard  it  bang !  bang !  bang !  all  up 
and  down  that  very  short  line,  as  when  the  pickets 
all  descry  the  same  object  and  blaze  away  at  it  as 
fast  as  they  can  load  and  fire.  Our  line  was  drawn 
up,  in  shorter  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  across 
that  narrow  part  of  the  plateau  from  which  a  kind 


124  ''AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

of  blind  wood-road  led  down  tlie  hill ;  and  as  we 
silently  loaded  our  pieces,  we  could  hear  the  shout 
and  rush  of  a  conflict  up  the  hillside,  and  knew  that 
the  enemy  were  on  our  fellows,  and  that  all  would 
come  in  together. 

But  that  could  not  be  helped,  and  we  stood  at 
readv  to  receive  them  with  at  least  one  £:ood  fire, 
and  with  the  confidence  that  we  could  give  them 
all  they  came  for  unless  there  was  enough  of  them 
to  sweep  around  our  line,  which  did  not  cover  half 
the  width  of  the  plateau. 

"  Take  care  to  fire  above  our  boys  as  they  come 
in,"  said  the  Major. 

And  the  brilliant  gleam  of  the  stars  would  easily 
help  us  to  that  end. 

In  another  second  came  the  rush,  the  tumble, 
the  flight,  the  pursuit,  helter-skelter,  pell-mell,  of 
a  mass  of  horsemen  driving  our  fellows ;  and  just  as 
they  came  up  the  slope  fair  on  a  level,  the  Major's 
voice  rang  over  the  din,  clear  and  loud : 

''Fire!" 

We  fired  like  one  man ;  and  then  the  front  rank 
at  the  order  fixed  bayonets,  went  forward  a  pace, 
and  dropped  to  receive  cavalry,  while  we  behind 
pegged  away  at  the  mass.  Our  first  fire  of  about 
fourteen  rifles  staggered  them,  or  perhaps  knocked 
the  head  of  their  column  into  a  cocked  hat,  for  there 
was  a  moment's  lull  in  the  noise ;  and  there  was  a 
gleam  of  hope  that  if  some  of  them  did  not  scram- 
ble down  to  our  left  and  find  the  end  of  the  line 
we  might  beat  them  off. 


CUT  TO   PIECES.  125 

Bat  it  was  only  a  gleam.  There  were  a  great  many 
behind  those  who  first  came,  and  tliey  were  not  the 
sort  of  fellows  we  liad  had  on  onr  hands  at  Braxton 
House,  but  regular  cavalry  from  a  North  Carolina 
regiment ;  and  though  astonished  at  our  first  fire, 
they  swept  in  an  instant  later  and  filled  the  whole 
plateau,  and  rode  us  down  front  and  rear.  There 
was  a  desperate  conflict  of  four  or  five  minutes, 
when  our  line  was  broken.  Sabres  and  bayonets 
encountered  with  the  fine  jingle  of  such  metal; 
clubbed  muskets  and  carabines  came  down  on  men's 
heads  ;  there  were  shouts  and  groans  and  curses, — 
and  Company  II  was  done  for.  Every  man  of  our 
little  party  was  either  dead  or  wounded.  It  was 
the  most  complete  calamity  I  ever  saw. 

Exactly  how  long  a  time  elapsed  I  don't  know, 
nor  what  was  the  occasion  of  the  delay;  for,  dazed 
and  hurt,  I  had  almost  lost  the  power  of  observation 
or  reflection  ;  but  after  a  while  I  heard  near  me  an 
ofiicer  report  to  him  who  was  the  commander  of  this 
cavalry  that  this 

'^  Seemed  to  be  Yankee  soldiers  from  east  of  the 
mountain;  that  there  were  twenty-four;  that  the 
ofiicers  were  killed  or  mortally  wounded  ;  that  there 
were  twelve  men  dead  of  the  Yankees,  and  fifteen 
of  their  own  ;  that  all  the  remainder  of  the  Yankees 
were  hurt,  and  that  ten  of  their  own  men  were  too 
badly  hurt  to  go  on." 

"  They  fought  like  the  deuce,  Charley,"  said  the 
commander  as  he  sat  sidewise  on  his  horse  and 
smoked  a  pipe,  "  for  such  a  little  party." 


126 

"Yes,  sir;  they  were  tongli  fellows." 

"  They  must  be  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac." 

"  Well,  sir,  they  wasn't  militia." 

"  It's  singular  they  should  be  here.  Hi,  there ! 
send  word  to  the  captain  of  the  right  company  to 
keep  a  sharp  lookout  ahead;  there  must  be  more, 
certainly.  And,  Charley,  leave  the  dead  and  mor- 
tally wounded  where  they  are,  but  take  half  a  dozen 
files  and  send  the  other  wounded  with  our  wounded 
down  the  mountain." 

This  order  rather  surprised  me ;  but  I  could  not 
then  give  myself  any  account  of  why  it  should 
surprise  me. 

Then  in  a  little  while  I  heard  the  movements  of 
this  force  like  the  rush  of  a  storm  ;  and  certainly  it 
had  come  upon  us  like  a  mounted  whirlwind,  as  it 
moved  away  over  the  mountain  in  the  direction 
from  which  we  had  reached  this  accursed  spot.  The 
order  which  1  had  heard  given  with  regard  to  us  was 
acted  upon  so  energetically  that  by  daylight  we 
were  all  in  the  street  of  some  little  village  near  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  the  wounded  rebs  sharing 
with  us  the  refreshment  of  the  cups  of  coffee  they 
made  by  the  roadside. 

Some  of  our  boys,  as  we  went  down  the  mountain, 
talked  about  the  fight  in  that  spirit  of  free  criticism 
of  the  officers  that  was  perhaps  too  common  in  our 
army.  Many  wondered  whether  it  would  have  been 
possible  for  us  to  whip  the  cavalry  if  we  had  been 
differently  handled,  and  thought  that  a  small  body 
of  infantry  like  ours  should  be  equal  to  a  regiment 


CUT  TO   PIECES.  127 

of  cavalry  on  such  a  hillside.  That  might  be  true 
as  to  some  hillsides ;  but  on  this  succession  of  easy- 
slopes  the  cavalry  was  not  at  a  great  disadvantage. 

One  fellow  thought  we  could  have  done  better 
if  we  had  been  spread  through  the  woods,  flanking 
the  road  by  which  the  cavalry  advanced,  and  had 
thence  peppered  them  with  skirmish-iire. 

Another  thought  we  would  have  been  posted  that 
way  if  we  had  not  been  surprised. 

"  Well,"  said  the  first,  "  what  right  has  a  company 
of  a  veteran  regiment  to  be  surprised,  anyhow  ?" 

In  short,  there  was  the  usual  array  of  military 
knowledge ;  but  a  generous  silence  about  the  Major, 
which  would  not  have  been  observed  if  he  had  not 
perished  in  the  conflict. 

In  my  opinion,  infantry  can  never  hold  its  ground 
against  cavalry  in  such  a  case ;  that  is,  if  there  is 
plenty  of  cavalry,  and  the  cavalry  knows  what  it 
wants  to  do,  and  is  determined  to  do  it.  Plenty  of 
stories  I  know  are  told  about  adamantine  squares, 
and  all  that;  but  a  good  deal  of  it  is  romance,  and 
the  rest  is  nonsense.  Suppose  only  one  horseman 
comes,  and  you  put  a  dozen  bullets  into  his  nag  and 
two  or  three  into  him,  and  have  got  a  line  of  bayonets 
ready.  He  jumps  his  horse  fair  into  your  square 
just  as  he's  two  or  three  paces  away.  You  kill  'em 
both,  of  course,  but  horse  and  man  fall  on  your  line. 
The  mere  dead  weight  of  the  horse's  body,  not  to 
mention  his  struggling  as  he  kicks  and  sprawls,  opens 
two  or  three  files.  Half  a  dozen  other  horsemen 
follow  at  that  point,  and  your  square  is  gone. 


128 

That's  the  ^Yay  it  seems  to  me,  though  wc 
never  liad  much  of  that.  As  for  those  squares  of 
tlie  Old  Guard  at  Waterloo  which  ai-e  always  quoted, 
I  don't  believe  the  storv.  It  is  a  romantic  exagger- 
ation to  glorify  a  little  more  the  subjects  of  a  line 
old  legend.  Perhaps  the  cavalry  had  other  fish  to 
fry  just  then,  and  could  not  attend  to  those  old 
duffers.  Perhaps  it  was  the  correct  tactical  thing 
in  that  battle  to  leave  the  squares  alone,  and  go  for 
the  fellows  that  were  on  the  run.  Either  that,  or  it 
was  not  first-rate  cavahy. 

Commonly  every  cavalryman  is  ready  to  let  an- 
other cavalryman  liave  the  glory  of  being  the  first 
man  in  the  square,  and  that  sort  of  generosit}^  saves 
the  square. 

One  of  our  fellows  exhibited  all  the  way  down 
the  hill  a  great  deal  of  distress  for  a  reason  that 
seemed  rather  comic  to  the  rest  of  us. 

"  Imagine  it !''  he  said,  "  what  a  name  for  a  fight — 
Corkscrew  Cut !  Why,  when  it  appears  in  there- 
ports  that  our  company  fought  till  the  last  man  was 
down  at  Corkscrew  Cut,  the  boys  will  only  laugh. 
All  the  glory  will  be  lost  in  the  thought  of  such  a 
ridiculous  name  ;"  and  thereupon  he  launched  out 
into  a  tirade  against  the  absurdity  of  Southern 
names,  and  the  commonplace  character  of  the  names 
of  our  battles  by  comparison  with  the  names  of  the 
fights  in  the  ancient  wars. 

But  another  one  of  the  fellows,  a  college  man, 
used  him  up  on  that  point  about  the  ancient  names, 
thouojh  he  agreed  with  him  that  it  was  disgusting 


CUT  TO   PIECES.  129 

to  be  killed  or  wounded  at  a  place  with  such  a  name 
as  Corkscrew  Cut. 

"  As  for  the  ancient  names,"  said  this  fellow, 
"  they  were  just  like  our  names,  often  only  de- 
scriptions of  natural  facts — combinations  of  familiar 
syllables;  but  they  have  a  dignity  for  us  due  to 
their  association  witli  great  events  rather  than  with 
mere  incident  of  topography.  Thermopylae,  for  in- 
stance, means  the  pass  at  the  hot  springs  ;  but  such 
a  phrase  as  the  fight  at  Hot  Springs  Pass  will 
never  get  at  the  roots  of  your  hair  as  do  those  won- 
derful words,  tlie  fight  at  Thermopylae." 

In  the  village  we  learned  that  General  Pope  had 
been  pulverized  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  mountains 
a  few  days  before  ;  that  all  of  Lee's  army  was 
sweeping  into  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania;  and 
that  it  would  be  at  Philadelphia  in  a  few  days,  as 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  cut  to  pieces. 

That  was  their  story. 

Down  this  valley  also  some  part  of  the  invading 
force  was  in  motion — we  did  not  learn  what  part ; 
but  as  we  were  far  to  one  side  of  their  march  in 
this  little  village,  there  was  no  surgeon  to  help  us. 
Then  suddenly  came  to  me  a  thought  of  old  Dr. 
Braxton.  Where  was  he  ?  Where  were  they  ? 
And  I  remembered  that  in  the  report  made  to  the 
ofiicer  I  had  not  heard  a  word  about  women.  Had 
they  been  hurt  in  the  melee^  or  had  they  at  the  first 
alarm  crept  away  and  hidden  in  some  crevice  of  the 
mountain,  guided  by  the  old  darkies,  who  seemed  to 
know  every  'coon-hole  in  all  that  region  ?  My  head 
9 


130 

was  not  very  clear  tlien ;  but  I  remember  that  it 
occurred  to  me  that  as  the  women  were  not  men- 
tioned, and  as  this  cavahy  went  over  the  mountain, 
it  was  possible  that  it  had  not  been  sent  for  us  espe- 
cially, and  that  consequently  the  Secesh  officer 
Arthur  might  have  had  no  hand  in  our  fate ;  but 
appearances  were  against  him,  and  nobody  else 
thought  as  I  did  about  it. 

In  the  course  of  that  day  there  came  a  great  many 
darkies  about  us,  women  and  pickaninnies  or  very 
old  men  ;  and  they  were  all  eager  to  help  us  to  some 
little  comforts  of  food  and  sympathy  when  not  ob- 
served by  the  guards  or  by  the  vindictive  white 
women  near.  Toward  night  there  was  one  old  man 
whose  odd  demeanor  attracted  my  attention  ;  and  ob- 
serving him  closely,  I  saw  that  he  was  one  who  had 
been  with  the  Braxton  family,  and  who  was  the 
Major's  principal  help  as  to  ways  through  the  moun- 
tain. Immediately  my  imagination  ran  wild  with 
the  fancy  that  his  appearance  here  was  with  some 
purpose,  and  that  he  had  a  communication  to  make 
to  some  of  us.  Presently  I  made  a  pretext  of  want- 
ing to  take  a  few  steps  down  to  the  end  of  the  barn- 
yard that  served  for  the  time  as  guard-house  ;  so  I 
called  this  fellow  to  lend  me  his  shoulder,  as  my  leg 
had  a  sabre-cut  and  I  could  by  this  time  not  bear 
my  weight  on  that  side.  He  came  as  if  unwillingly, 
grumbling  and  cursing  the  Yankees ;  and  this  I  saw 
was  an  adroit  ruse  on  the  old  fellow's  part  to  de- 
ceive the  guard.  As  I  bore  my  elbow  on  his  shoul- 
der and  walked  slowly  with  a  great  deal  of  pain,  he 


CUT  TO   PIECES.  131 

said,  in  a  style  that  showed  his  appreciation  of  time  : 

"  Corp'ral,  I  seen  de  Major.  He's  done  gone  dead. 
In  his  pocket  I  found  dis  letter.  What  shall  I  do 
with  it  ?"  And  he  held  close  to  him  so  I  could  see  just 
it,  a  letter  he  had  found  in  the  Major's  pocket.  It 
was  addressed  ''  To  Keuben  Pettibone,  Esq.,  Port- 
land, Maine.  This  letter  is  to  be  posted  only  if  found 
on  my  dead  body ;"  and  below  some  one  had  writ- 
ten— perhaps  this  old  Sambo — "  done  gone  knockt 
on  hed  wid  but  eend  muskit." 

As  he  hastily  thrust  this  into  his  coat  again,  I 
said  to  him : 

" It  ought  to  go  North.     Can  you  send  it?" 

"  Shuah,  corp'ral,  shuah  1  Send  it  by  de  grape- 
vine telegraph." 

That  was  a  postal  arrangement  much  in  use  then, 
and  equivalent  to  the  "  underground  railroad "  for 
forbidden  travel  between  the  sections. 

"  Send  it,  then,"  I  said  ;  "  it  may  be  of  great  im- 
portance to  his  family." 

"  Send  it  shuah,  boss  ;  wish  to  golly  dis  old  nigger 
could  do  more  dan  dat." 

"  Where  are  the  ladies  ?"  I  said. 

"  Guess  day'm  safe  nu£E  in  de  mountains,  cor- 
p'ral." And  before  I  could  get  more  from  him  he 
slipped  away  and  was  gone ;  nor  was  his  coming  or 
going  much  more  observed  than  would  have  been 
that  of  one  more  fly  in  a  swarm. 

But  what  had  really  happened  in  the  mountains 
was  as  follows : 

As  soon  as  the  cavalry  had  swept  away,  and  the 


132  *'AS   WE    WENT   MARCHIKG    ON." 

guard  detailed  had  got  fairly  started  down  the 
mountains  with  the  wounded,  this  old  darky  had 
been  the  first  to  creep  out  of  the  hole  in  which  he 
had  lain  hidden  through  the  fight.  It  was  not  yet 
daylight,  but  he  had  fumbled  around  in  the  hope  that 
he  could  be  of  some  help  to  those  left  on  the  field. 
He  had  found  them  all,  however,  beyond  his  sur- 
gery. Then  the  thought  of  valuables  or  papers  had 
occurred  to  him  ;  but  the  IS^orth  Carolina  fellows 
had  been  ahead  of  him  there,  and  all  he  had  found 
was  this  letter  in  the  Major's  pocket  which  he  had 
shown  me,  and  which  now,  therefore,  went  forward 
with  the  strange  additions  to  its  superscription. 

But  the  Major  was  not  then  really  dead  ;  though 
the  old  uncle,  who  was  not  an  adept  in  symptoms, 
was  justified  in  believing  that  he  was,  since  he  had 
received  such  injuries  of  the  brain  as  simulated  that 
condition.  ]^o  doubt  the  surgeon  of  the  cavalry 
had  reported  him  mortally  wounded. 

Some  hours  later  the  field  was  looked  over  by 
more  instructed  eyes  than  those  of  the  old  darky. 
Dr.  Braxton  and  the  two  ladies  had,  it  appears,  been 
on  foot  almost  as  soon  as  any  of  us  that  night  at  the 
first  shot ;  and  foreseeing  what  might  happen,  they 
had  clambered  by  a  narrow  zigzag  path  almost  up  the 
perpendicular  wall  of  the  mountain,  and  looked  down 
upon  the  field  as  if  from  a  swallow's  nest  in  the  side 
of  a  cliff,  or  as  if  from  a  cliff-house  like  those  in 
the  Arizona  mountains.  As  soon  as  the  broadening 
light  showed  that  there  was  no  one  on  foot  below, 
but  only  dead  or  dying  men,  they  all  came  down. 


CUT  TO   PIECES.  133 

Miss  Phoebe  was  a  brave  little  spirit,  not  dis- 
mayed by  the  presence  of  death.  She  found  the 
body  of  the  Major,  and  was  the  first  to  discover 
that  there  was  life  in  him  yet.  She  watched  and 
was  sure  she  could  observe  his  respiration.  Her 
father  soon  confirmed  her  opinion.  He  found  that 
the  Major  had  a  bullet  in  his  brain,  and  had  his 
skull  fractured,  perhaps  hit  with  the  butt  end  of  a 
cavalry  carabine,  but  that  he  was  not  dead  yet. 

Thereupon  Miss  Phoebe  declared  that  she  would 
not  leave  while  he  was  alive,  or  that  he  must  be  car- 
ried to  some  place  of  refuge  in  the  mountains  where 
he  could  be  cared  for.  The  old  doctor  was  not  a 
hard-hearted  man,  as  we  all  knew ;  but  surgeons  are 
apt  to  suppose  that  a  man  w^ho  has  but  a  few  hours 
to  live  can  die  as  well  in  one  place  as  another ;  and 
as  the  Major's  hurts  were  certainly  mortal,  he  ap- 
plied that  reasoning  to  this  case. 

But  Phoebe  said : 

"  Father,  we  are  Christians,  at  least ;  and  this  offi- 
cer, though  he  thought  himself  compelled  to  do 
toward  us  acts  that  were  those  of  an  enemy,  did  all 
with  a  high-minded  gentlemanly  courtesy  that  it 
would  be  barbarous  in  us  to  forget  when  evil  has 
come  upon  him.'' 

"Yes,  brother,"  said  Aunt  Hetty;  "Phoebe  is 
right  about  this.  We  cannot  leave  him  to  die  like  a 
stricken  animal  by  the  wayside." 

"  And  besides,"  said  Phoebe,  '-  if  one  of  our  own 
circle — dear  me !  it  is  terrible  to  say  it,  but  it  must 


134 

be  said,  and  will  be  said — if  Arthur  had  a  hand  in 
this !" 

"  Arthur !"  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  if  such  a 
thought  had  not  dawned  upon  him.  "  Impossible, 
child!" 

"  He  was  dreadfully  angry  when  he  went  away," 
said  Phoebe. 

And  Aunt  Hetty  tried  to  say  a  word,  but  broke 
down  in  an  overwhelming  burst  of  tears. 

Thereupon  the  doctor  went  away  to  see  some 
other  wounded  ones,  and  left  them  to  their  own 
devices. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AT    SKIBBEVAN. 

From  tlie  spot  where  lie  was  knocked  over,  the 
Major  was  carried  by  the  contrabands  whom  Phoebe 
called  to  help  her,  to  a  place  called  Skibbevan, 
about  a  mile  or  two  away  by  rough  mountain  foot- 
paths. It  was  the  thoughtfulness  of  one  of  the 
colored  assistants  that  suggested  this  refuge ;  for 
little  Phoebe  was  at  her  wits'  ends  on  this  subject 
She  knew  they  were  too  far  from  Braxton  House  to 
go  there  with  the  wounded  man,  even  if  Braxton 
House  still  had  a  roof  upon  it ;  and  where  else  to 
go  she  could  not  imagine,  for  she  probably  did  not 
know  at  just  what  point  of  the  mountain  they  then 
were. 

Then  a  yellow  girl  of  about  Phoebe's  age  who 
stood  by,  and  who  was  in  full  sympathy  with  the 
lady  in  this  gentle  service,  said  softly: 

''  Might  take  him  to  our  house,  Missus  Phoebe." 

'•What  is  your  house  ?" 

"  Skibbevan." 

"  Yes,"  said  Phoebe,  "  that  is  it ;  take  him  there. 
I'm  glad  you  spoke.    You  are  Agate?" 

"  Yes,  miss." 

So  they  went  to  Agate's  home. 

Skibbevan  was  Phoebe's  own  property.     It  had 


136  "AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

been  left  her  bj  an  aunt  wlio  Lad  died  in  Phoebe's 
infancy.  But  it  was  not  a  productive  estate ;  and 
-when  Agate's  mother — old  Kaomi,  who  had  been 
Phoebe's  nurse — married  a  miller,  the  place  had 
been  given  them  for  a  home,  and  they  ground  corn 
and  oats  for  use  at  Braxton  House  to  pay  the  rent. 
And  now  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  Phoebe  re- 
joiced that  she  was  the  owner  of  this  hitherto 
nearly  worthless  old  place. 

Skibbevan  was  a  stone  mill,  crumbled  with  age ; 
for  it  had  been  built  many  and  many  a  year  before, 
and  in  the  times  when  no  house  was  of  use  in  that 
region  unless  it  was  also  a  fort.  There  was  a  tra- 
dition that  it  was  the  first  home  of  a  civilized  man 
whose  windows  ever  looked  across  the  Shenandoah 
Yalley.  It  stood  in  a  croft  scooped  in  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  perhaps  by  the  action  of  the  ancient 
torrent,  the  remains  of  which  now  placidlj^  turned 
the  old  wheel  of  the  mill ;  and  it  was  so  placed  that 
the  edges  of  the  croft  completely  hid  the  house  from 
the  view  of  those  coming  down  the  valley  or  going 
up,  and  to  get  a  fair  view  of  it  from  the  valley  one 
had  to  be  well  to  the  other  side  of  that  picturesque 
expanse  and  very  nearly  opposite  the  mill.  Its 
builder's  name  had  passed  away  forever  from  the 
memory  of  man,  but  from  its  own  name  it  was 
reasoned  that  the  builder  had  been  some  adventur- 
ous Englishman  of  the  early  colonial  times  who,  in 
the  Turkish  wars  or  as  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of 
the  Saracens,  had  acquired  some  Eastern  lore,  since 
Skibbevan  was  supposed  to  be  a  corruption  of  the 


AT   SKIBBEVAN".  137 

name  of  one  of  the  four  Beautiful  Places,  or  para- 
dises, of  Oriental  story. 

Persons  who  pretended  to  know,  but  whose  pre- 
tended knowledge  may  liave  been  all  imagination, 
said  that  in  the  days  when  Greenway  Court  was  a 
famous  scene  of  colonial  hospitality,  many  hardy 
adventurers  who  went  to  and  fro  between  that 
forest  home  and  tide- water  tried  different  paths  and 
went  different  ways  into  the  wilderness,  and,  sick- 
ened with  the  experiences  and  disappointments  of 
the  life  of  the  time,  made  themselves  homes  here 
as  in  the  bosom  of  primitive  nature,  and  that  Skib- 
bevan  was  built  for  one  of  these. 

In  recent  times  there  had  been  added  to  the  old 
stone  structure,  on  the  other  side  fi-om  the  mill- 
wdieel,  a  wooden  wing,  with  two  capacious  rooms 
on  the  ground-floor,  and  an  ample  piazza ;  and  thus 
it  was  altogether  a  roomy  and  habitable  place, 
kept  in  good  order  by  neat  old  Naomi  and  her 
energetic  and  industrious  husband  Hiram. 

"  De  Lord  help  us !  who's  dat  voice  I  hear  down 
dar  ?"  said  old  jSTaomi  from  the  kitchen  in  the  tower, 
as  Phoebe  gave  some  directions  to  the  men  and 
women  when  they  reached  the  steps  of  the  piazza. 
"  Dat  my  blessed  child,  slmah." 

And  in  another  second  the  old  woman  was  out 
and  held  Phoebe  in  her  arms,  with  all  the  natural 
impulse  and  energy  of  a  warm  heart. 

"Heard  drefful  news,  drefful  news,"  she  said. 
"Heard   dat   sojers  carry  away  old   doctor.  Aunt 


138  "AS   WE  WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

Hetty,  my  baby,  everybody;  burn  Braxton  House, 
ruin  de  whole  world.  And  all  dis  night  I  pray  to  do 
Lord  Jesus  to  help  us  out  of  dis,  and  dere,  now,  you 
comes  like  a  voice  from  heaven  to  comfort  yer  old 
Naomi.  But  land  o'  Goshen !  what's  dis  ?"  she 
said,  as  her  eye  caught  in  the  folds  of  the  shawl  the 
blood-stained  face  of  tlie  Major. 

Agate,  who  saw  that  Phoebe  could  not  stand  much 
of  this,  hastily  led  the  old  woman  away,  and  the 
others  carried  the  Major  up  and  laid  liim  gently  on 
the  piazza. 

"  In  a  jiffy,"  as  the  old  woman  said,  Agate  had 
told  her  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  given  her  such 
a  glimpse  of  the  circumstances  as  to  show  the  need 
of  discretion  and  tranquillity,  both  for  the  sake  of 
the  wounded  man  and  the  already  overwrought  sen- 
sibilities of  the  lady ;  and  then  JSTaomi  and  Agate 
came  in  together,  and  soon  prepared  in  front  of  the 
laro^e  window  of  the  best  room  a  comfortable  fresh 
bed,  upon  which  the  Major  was  laid. 

Naomi  managed  heroically  to  hold  her  tongue 
until  this  was  done,  and  all  she  said  then  was : 

"  Bless  us,  chile,  how  dis  will  'stonish  Hiram !  But 
Hiram's  doin'  bosin's  work  with  all  de  men  he  could 
get  over  to  Braxton,  tryin'  to  put  out  de  fiah." 

Water  was  bi'ought,  and  Phcebe  herself,  kneeling 
down  beside  the  bed,  washed  the  pale,  handsome 
face  of  the  Major  with  her  dainty  white  taper 
fingers,  and  disentangled  his  hair,  matted  in  masses 
with  the  clotted  blood. 

"  Massy  on  us !"  said  Xaomi,  as  they  all  thus  saw 


AT  SKIBBEVAN".  139 

tliG  Major's  face,  ^' dat's  a  miglity  handsome  man. 
But  'tain't  Mas'r  Art'ur." 

They  all  wanted  to  help;  but  Phoebe  seemed 
jealous  that  any  but  she  should  touch  him,  and 
herself  placed  his  head  upon  the  pillow  and  moist- 
ened his  lips  with  fresh  cool  water.  For  an  instant, 
however,  she  felt  faint,  and  nearly  fell  to  the  floor 
as  she  came  upon  tlie  bruised  mouth  of  the  wound 
where  the  ball  had  entered  his  skull,  and  from  which 
the  blood  still  slowly  oozed  away. 

Agate  lifted  her  up  and  led  her  out  to  the  piazza, 
and  said  softly : 

'^  He  is  as  comfortable  now  as  you  can  make  him. 
Leave  him  for  a  little.     It's  too  much  for  any  one." 

Naomi  rushed  away  to  the  kitchen  to  prepare  a 
cup  of  coffee,  because  she  was  "  sure  her  dear  baby 
needed  something  to  strengthen  her ;"  but  the  poor 
old  woman  was  as  anxious  on  this  occasion  to  conceal 
the  outburst  of  her  own  clamorous  sorrow  as  to  help 
Phoebe.  Agate  a  moment  later  slipped  away  to  the 
kitchen  also  ;  and  Phoebe,  left  alone,  went  into  the 
room  again,  kneeled  beside  the  bed,  and  put  up  the 
prayer  of  a  pure-hearted,  gentle,  earnest  little 
maiden. 

"  God  grant  that  this  wound  may  not  be  mortal ; 
that  all  those  whose  hearts  will  be  broken  to  hear 
of  his  death  may  be  spared  that  blow." 

She  could  not  accept  as  the  last  word  the  calm 
declaration  of  surgical  science  that  the  bullet  which 
penetrates  a  man's  brain  necessarily  destroys  life. 
She  had  a  hope  beyond  that,  and  she  put  her  hopes 


140  ''  AS   WE   WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

in  her  prayers — a  grand  help  in  such  difficulties,  for 
under  the  worst  inflictions  the  person  who  has  not  the 
heart  to  say  a  word  to  any  other  person  about  them 
finds  a  happy  resource  in  those  silent  appeals  of 
faith  which  need  not  be  limited  by  any  conventional 
views  of  facts,  nor  by  anybody's  opinion  of  what  is 
or  is  not  possible.  It  is  only  in  prayer  that  people 
can  still  express  the  hope  that  that  will  happen 
which  judgment  declares  is  impossible. 

In  halt  an  hour  Aunt  Hetty  arrived  also ;  for  she 
had  followed  more  slowly  the  steps  of  Phoebe,  be- 
cause Skibbevan  was  an  immediate  and  accessible 
refuge ;  and  some  hours  later  the  old  doctor  came, 
because  where  Phoebe  and  Hetty  were  was  the 
world  to  him. 

They  all  stayed  there  quietly  that  day.  Hetty, 
Naomi,  and  Agate  watching  Phoebe;  Phoebe  be- 
side the  Major ;  and  the  old  doctor  on  the  piazza 
pacing  to  and  fro,  chafing  at  his  trouble  as  at  a  chain, 
and  from  time  to  time  stopping  in  front  of  the  open 
window  to  watch  from  that  little  distance  the  Major 
on  his  bed,  and  then  with  a  negative  shake  of  the 
head,  of  which  perhaps  he  was  scarcely  conscious, 
continuing  his  to-and-fro  march. 

It  was  planned  that  at  night  the  doctor  should 
go  over  the  mountain  to  ascertain  the  real  state  of 
Braxton  House,  to  see  what  could  be  saved,  and 
to  stay  there  if  this  might  prevent  wanton  destruc- 
tion of  the  property  by  stragglers  and  marauders. 
Meanwhile  Hetty  and  Plioebe  were  entirely  at 
home  at  Skibbevan. 


AT   SKIBBEVAN.  141 

Before  he  departed  at  niglit,  the  doctor  went  in 
and  examined  once  more  the  Major's  wounds.  He 
thought  the  penetrating  wound  was  made  bj  a  pis- 
tol-ball, and  in  the  close  hand-to-hand  iight,  for  the 
hair  was  burned  as  if  bv  the  flash  of  the  pistol. 

**  He  has  a  hard  head,"  said  the  doctor, "  or  that  ball 
would  have  gone  completely  through  and  out  at  the 
other  side.  Unless,"  he  continued,  '*'  the  Confede- 
rate cartridges  are  made  with  bad  powder;  and 
probably  they  are.  Everybody  cheats  our  govern- 
ment and  people." 

But  the  doctor  satisfied  himself  that  the  ball  had 
really  pierced  the  skull  and  entered  the  brain.  He 
believed  it  had  ranged  upward.  It  went  in  some- 
where above  the  left  ear,  and  was  lying  near  the 
top  of  the  head.  But  he  would  not  put  in  an  instru- 
ment to  ascertain  this. 

"Poor  fellow,"  he  said,  "  he  is  near  enough  to  his 
end.  I  will  not  poke  out  with  probes  the  little  that 
is  left  of  his  life.  For  a  Northern  man  he  was  the 
most  thorough  gentleman  I  ever  met." 

Perhaps  if  the  doctor's  opinion  of  the  Major  had 
been  a  trifle  less  favorable,  he  might  have  finished 
him  then  and  there  with  his  probes,  as  I  believe  I 
have  seen  many  a  fine  fellow  finished  in  a  field-hos- 
pital. 

It  was  the  doctor's  opinion,  furthermore,  that  in 
addition  to  the  wound  from  the  bullet  there  Avas  a 
fracture  of  the  skull  from  a  bad  blow  on  the  top  of 
the  head  ;  but  this  wound  did  not  now  seem  to  him 
as  bad  as  he  at  first  thought  it. 


142 

^'  Nevertheless,"  he  said,  "  the  biiTlet-wound  is 
more  than  enough.     He  cannot  live." 

By  this  time  some  change  had  taken  place  in  the 
condition  of  the  Major.  He  had  at  first  been  cold, 
and  those  who  had  tried  to  connt  the  beat  of  his 
pulse  could  not  find  the  pulse.  This  Avas  tlie  con- 
dition that  made  the  old  Sambo  who  had  first  gone 
to  him  before  day  believe  ho  was  dead  ;  and  this 
state  was  produced  probably  by  the  overwhelming 
shock  due  to  the  great  injuries  the  brain  had  re- 
ceived. But  later  in  the  day  he  had  rallied  a  little 
from  this;  his  pulse  had  become  perceptible  and 
there  was  some  warmth,  and  he  had  shown  as  much 
life  as  is  implied  in  the  feeling  of  thirst,  for  when 
Phoebe  moistened  his  lips  he  drew  them  into  his 
mouth  as  if  to  get  the  fluid  that  was  left  upon 
them. 

"  He  appeared  at  first,"  said  the  doctor,  "  as  if 
he  would  die  without  recovering  from  the  shock ; 
and  they  are  apt  to  die  that  way  from  these  se- 
vere lesions  of  the  brain.  But  there  is  a  reaction, 
and  there  will  be  fever,  and  maybe  delirium  and 
mania,  and  he  will  die  exhausted  from  these,  or 
from  the  pressure  of  blood  as  hemorrhage  con- 
tinues within  the  skull.  Reaction,  as  it  comes  on, 
has  sometimes  an  encouraging  effect,  because  it 
seems  to  be  a  recovery  of  the  vital  forces.  It  is 
only,  however,  the  slower  way  of  dying  fi-om  such 
wounds.  He  cannot  recover ;  not  but  what  men 
have  recovered  from  dreadful  wounds  of  the  brain 
perhaps  as  bad  as  this.     Baron  Larrey  gives  such 


AT   SKIBBEVAN.  l-io 

a  case.  But  this  will  not  resemble  that.  He  cannot 
live  short  of  a  miracle." 

"  But  miracles  happen,"  said  Phoebe,  who  caught 
these  last  words. 

Now,  the  old  doctor  did  not  believe  that  miracles 
happen;  but  he  would  not  disturb  Phoebe  on  that 
point,  so  he  went  out  and  said  no  more. 

Some  of  this  account  of  the  condition  of  her  pa- 
tient Phoebe  heard ;  the  rest  was  gently  suggested 
rather  than  told  her ;  but  she  stayed  by  the  Major 
and  kept  up  her  hopes  just  the  same,  and  all  that 
night  she  and  Agate  watched  by  turns  at  the  bed- 
side, and  Naomi  prayed  out  in  the  mill. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    PETTIBONE   FAMILY. 

Slowly  and  less  surely  than  was  common,  the  let- 
ter found  upon  Pembroke's  body  went  on  its  way 
to  the  ITorth,  as  the  old  uncle  had  said  it  would,  by 
"grapevine  telegraph."  Now,  the  "grapevine  tele- 
graph" and  the  "  underground"  railroad  were  organ- 
izations of  the  same  general  nature ;  that  is  to  say,  as 
the  one  carried  forbidden  passengers  by  secret  and 
difficult  ways,  the  other  transmitted  communications 
surreptitiously  if  not  always  swiftly.  From  hand 
to  hand  of  trusty  negroes  it  went  down  the  valley 
and  over  the  Potomac,  until  it  was  actually  deposited 
in  the  post-office  at  Frederick  City  in  Maryland. 
But  from  that  point  northward  its  journey  was 
slower,  for  near  Baltimore  the  whole  mail  fell  into 
the  hands  of  a  troop  of  rebel  raiders,  and  the  pouch 
which  contained  this  letter  was,  with  others  that  the 
enemy  were  unable  to  carry  away,  cast  into  the 
Potomac  River.  Many  months  later  these  pouches 
were  fished  out  of  the  river,  and  the  mail  went  once 
more  on  its  northward  way. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  letter  was  addressed  to 
Reuben  Pettibone,  Esq.,  and  it  will  probably  in- 
terest the  reader  to  know  that  this  Reuben  Petti- 
bone was  the  Major's  father-in-law. 


THE    PETTIBONE   FAMILY.  145 

Eciibcn  Pettibone  had  been  a  very  prosperous 
man  in  his  time,  and  with  that  gentle  and  excellent 
woman  his  wife,  his  daughter  Lsetitia,  and  his  son 
Jack,  had  been  regarded  by  many  of  his  neighbors 
as  the  salt  of  the  earth ;  for  they  were  rich,  perhaps 
a  trifle  proud,  which  does  not  hurt  as  the  world 
goes,  and  they  seldom  neglected  tlie  assertion  of 
their  superiority  to  ordinary  mortals.  Mrs.  Petti- 
bone was  in  these  particulars  an  exception.  She 
w^as  simpler  and  gentler,  a  very  lovable  old  lady ; 
while  for  the  others  people  felt  regard,  respect, 
esteem,  but  seldom  used  with  relation  to  them 
words  of  a  warmer  quality. 

In  the  heyday  of  the  family  fortunes  Lsstitia 
had  become  the  wife  of  Geoffrey  Pembroke,  for  she 
was  a  girl  who  had  her  way  in  the  family  ;  and  while 
Pembroke  was  not  so  rich  a  man  as  Pettibone  would 
have  liked  for  his  daughter,  he  was  not  very  poor ; 
and  he  was  the  very  man  for  whom  twenty  other 
girls  were  dying,  wherefore  Lsetitia  was  determined 
to  have  him.  Pembroke  was  much  envied,  for  it 
was  a  "  good  match."  Papa  was  very  rich,  and  the 
girl  was  certainly  handsome,  and  of  an  amiable  dis- 
position so  far  as  anybody  could  know  without  the 
opportunity  that  domestic  life  gives  for  a  more  inti- 
mate test. 

But  it  proved  an  ill-assorted  marriage,  and  they 
were  not  happy.  Lsetitia's  temper  was  of  a  sort 
that  made  it  very  difficult  for  any  one  to  be  happy 
near  her ;  and  the  domestic  position  of  a  son-in-law 
does  not  often  assist  in  such  a  case.  Sons-in-law 
10 


146  "AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

liave  a  status  that  varies  from  tliat  of  warm  affection 
to  that  of  a  scarcely-disguised  common  enemy  ;  and 
while  this  status  may  depend  in  a  great  many  cases 
upon  the  man's  nature,  it  is  oftener  determined  by 
the  nature  of  his  wife.  Life  in  the  Pettibone 
family  had  become  nearly  impossible  to  Pembroke  ; 
life  in  a  home  of  his  own  there  was  no  chance  for, 
since  the  rich  girl  brought  up  in  one  way  would  not 
live  in  another ;  and  a  point  of  dissolution  was  near 
when  another  trouble  came. 

Peuben  Pettibone,  who  was  not  an  extremely  rich 
man,  had  made  some  unfortunate  speculations  early 
in  the  war,  and  while  he  was  in  difficulty  with  this 
struggle  there  were  suddenly  developed  with  his 
signature  some  very  heavy  notes  which  he  said  were 
forgeries.  But  this  declaration  the  bankers  did  not 
accept;  they  do  not  commonly  accept  a  theory 
against  their  own  interest.  They  were  forgeries, 
however,  and  Pettibone  would  not  pay. 

Then  arose  the  inquiry.  If  Peuben  Pettibone  did 
not  make  these  notes,  who  did?  The  bankers 
alleged  that  it  was  some  member  of  his  famil}^,  and 
in  their  secret  investigations  they  even  named  Jack 
Pettibone,  the  son,  a  wild  fellow,  a  spendthrift  and 
scapegrace.  As  soon  as  Reuben  and  Harriet,  liis 
wife,  heard  this  they  feared  it  might  be  true,  and 
they  brooded  over  it  many  days,  and  talked  over  it 
many  nights ;  and  the  pride  was  taken  out  of 
Reuben,  and  he  was  like  another  man. 

Between  Reuben  and  Harriet  it  was  judged  that 
to  be  poor  was  a  less  fearful  thing  than    such    a 


THE   PETTIBONE   FAMILY.  147 

stigmca;  that  the  disgrace  could  not  be  endured 
even  if  it  came  alone ;  while  they  saw  beyond  it  the 
chances  of  State  prison  for  Jack,  who  was,  however, 
just  now  safely  out  of  reach  in  Europe. 

But  just  as  hard-fisted  Reuben  had  been  brought 
to  this  point  the  bank  detectives  came  forward  and 
muddled  thinks  beautifully  with  a  new  theory. 
They  had  satisfied  themselves  that  it  was  not  the 
son,  but  the  son-in-law.  As  soon  as  this  word  was 
whispered  to  Eeuben  in  profound  secrecy,  he  tight- 
ened his  jaws,  and  buttoned  up  his  pocket,  and 
would  not  pay.  "  That  fellow  might  go  to  prison 
and  rot  there  for  all  he  cared."  But  Jack's  mother, 
too  wise  to  venture  a  judicial  investigation  on  that 
point,  held  that  the  decision  to  pay  must  be  main- 
tained, and  the  notes  were  paid ;  but  the  glory  of 
the  Pettibone  family  was  cut  down,  and  they  lived 
in  a  different  style  and  in  a  smaller  house. 

AH  could  stand  this  fall  easier  than  Lastitia ;  and 
if  she  had  really  loved  Pembroke  the  sacrifice  might 
have  been  easy  for  her;  but  as  she  weighed  him 
in  the  scale  against  her  pride,  she  hated  him  as  the 
cause  of  this  dreadful  mortification.  And  he,  poor 
fellow,  went  quietly  on  and  never  heard  a  syllable  of 
the  implication  of  his  name,  for  that  part  alone  no 
one  had  ventured  to  tell  him.  It  was  as  if  they  all 
held  tenaciously  by  this  last  thread  of  theory  that 
seemed  to  save  the  good  name  of  Jack,  and  were 
afraid  it  might  be  broken. 

But  this  point  came  out — was  *'  thrown  up"  to 
Pembroke  in  a  moment  of  ansrer. 


148  "AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

Lgetitia's  life,  as  now  shaped,  seemed  like  penury 
to  lier  by  comparison  with  what  had  been,  and  she 
reproached  herself  daily  as  one  who  had  brought 
into  the  family  the  author  of  this  disaster,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  an  outrage  that  Pembroke  should  take 
things  so  calmly  and  even  seem  to  be  happier  than 
before.  Wherefore  she  said  to  him  one  day  as  she 
found  him  in  a  merry  humor : 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  laugh  in  this  house, 
where  your  crime  has  made  so  many  people  miser- 
able." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  mute  amaze- 
ment, and  then  said : 

"  Oh !  do  they  say  I  had  something  to  do  with  it?" 

"  They  know  that  you  did  it,"  she  said,  and  in  a 
few  indignant  sentences  she  laid  before  him  the 
latest  form  of  the  detective  theory. 

lie  made  no  answer  to  all  this,  but  went  out  on 
the  piazza,  lit  a  cigar,  and  paced  to  and  fro  there  for 
an  hour. 

He  was  a  thoughtful,  calm,  wise  fellow.  An  in- 
tuition, a  sympathy  between  himself  and  the  only 
other  affectionate  soul  in  that  house,  Jack's  poor  old 
mother,  helped  him  to  understand  the  case  ;  and  the 
image  of  that  poor  mother  as  she  might  be  if  awak- 
ened from  this  delusion  of  the  detectives  swam  in 
his  mind. 

He  did  not  go  into  the  house  again,  but  when  all 
was  quiet  he  buttoned  up  his  coat,  walked  across  the 
fields  to  town,  caught  a  night  train  to  Boston,  went 
thence  to  New  York,  enlisted  in  a  regiment  then 


THE    rEXTIBOl^E   FAMILY.  149 

there  on  its  way  to  the  war,  and  about  ton  days  later 
was  lip  to  his  knees  in  the  Virginia  mnd. 

Jack's  mother  was  the  only  one  upon  whom  this 
departure  had  much  effect ;  for  Geoffrey  also  called 
her  mother,  and  was  always  a  pleasant  presence  to 
her,  and  she  was  uneasy  and  fidgety  until  they  heard 
where  Pembroke  was  from  some  one  who  saw  him 
in  the  army. 

For  months  together,  then,  the  desolate  mother 
sat  in  the  little  window-space,  wordless  but  busy ; 
and  the  steel  rods  came  and  went,  came  and  went, 
all  that  winter  as  she  knitted  socks  for  soldiers. 
They  kept  up  no  communication  with  Geoffrey ;  but 
some  day  some  of  these  socks  might  make  his  feet 
the  warmer;  or  if  some  other  mother's  knitting 
warmed  his  feet,  hers  might  warm  the  feet  of  that 
other  mother's  boy. 

And  Jack ! — who  could  tell  ?  They  never  heard 
of  him  any  more;  but  like  a  boy  wdio  loved  his 
country  he  might  have  come  home  and  enlisted  too, 
and  might  be  in  the  swamps  of  Virginia,  loading  and 
firing  for  the  Union  like  the  rest  of  them  ;  and  she 
might  be  so  happy  as  to  clothe  those  dear  feet,  even. 

And  so  the  white  thin  fingers  worked  on  forever 
in  the  little  sunshiny  window,  and  the  kitten  in  the 
sunny  place  on  the  floor  played  with  the  ball  of  yarn, 
till  there  came  a  day  when  Harriet  did  not  feel 
strong  enough  to  get  up  from  her  bed. 

They  sat  with  her  a  few  days  and  a  few  nights. 
On  the  fourth  day,  just  about  dawn,  Reuben,  who 
was  then  alone  with  her,  lieard  her  calm,  clear  voice 


150  "AS.  WE   WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

call  his  name,  and  went  to  the  bedside.  Her  face 
was  white  with  a  bluish  ashy  whiteness,  and  the 
features  sharper  than  before.    She  said  to  him  : 

"Dear  Keuben,  be  very  gentle  always  to  Geoffrey ; 
and  if  it  should  be  Jack  after  all" — a  hiccough  stop- 
ped her  voice  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  went  on 
again — "  if  it  should  be  Jack,  never  forget  the  great 
generosity  of  Geoffrey's  silence." 

And  that  was  the  last  the  gentle,  loyal  mother 
^versaid.  Alas!  no  one  had  stood  between  her  and 
the  blow.  She  had  understood  that  Jack  was  the 
culprit,  though  the  very  fiction  of  another's  guilt  had 
eased  it  for  her  a  little.  But  her  words  w^ere  a  rev- 
elation to  Reuben  and  never  went  out  of  his  mind ; 
for  to  him  Geoffrey's  departure  had  been  a  '*  flight," 
and  a  flight  meant  guilt. 

But  while  the  irentle  mother's  thoue'hts  had  in  all 

C5  CD 

the  time  before  her  death  been  upon  the  comfort  of 
the  far-away  ones,  Lsetitia  had  been  much  occupied 
in  an  altogether  different  way.  She  had  had  good 
legal  advice  to  the  effect  that  the  departure  of  Pem- 
broke was  an  abandonment,  and  that  abandonment 
was  a  good  cause  for  divorce.  She  had  regularly 
sought  a  divorce,  therefore,  and  despite  the  inevita- 
ble delays  of  the  law  her  application  made  hopeful 
progress  nntil  it  was  known  that  Pembroke  was  in 
the  army.  Then  the  case  went  on  more  slowly,  and 
was  not  completed  when  that  missive  arrived  which 
we  have  heard  of  in  Virginia. 

.  Pembroke's  letter  to  Pettibone  was  in  these 
w^ords : 


THE   PETTIBONE   FAMILY.  151 

"  In  a  stray  copy  of  a  Portland  paper  I  saw  the 
notice  of  mother's  death ;  and  if  slie  ever  believed 
that  the  notes  were  forged  by  me,  I  hope  she  be- 
lieved it  to  the  last.  Between  her  and  a  dreadful 
blow  I  was  always  willing  to  stand  at  any  cost  to 
myself. 

"  But  neither  you  nor  Lsetitia  are  persons  with 
heart  enough  to  be  much  hurt  on  that  side ;  and  a 
wound  coming  through  your  pride  is  what  I  would 
wish  you  may  have.  Be  assured,  therefore,  by  this 
declaration,  if  you  were  not  before,  that  those  for- 
geries were  never  done  by  me.  It  has  been  always 
my  intention  to  tell  you  this  face  to  face  when  the 
right  time  should  come ;  but  a  soldier  is  not  sure  of 
hil  life  from  hour  to  hour,  and  I  take  precaution 
that  you  may  surely  know  it.  This  letter  is  written 
to  be  carried  upon  my  person— marked  with  direc- 
tions that  if  at  any  time  I  shall  be  found  dead  upon 
a  field  of  battle,  this  letter  will  be  posted  by  the 
person  who  buries  me. 

"  You  can  receive  it  only  in  those  circumstances. 
At  the  same  time,  therefore,  that  it  takes  from  your 
pride  the  consolation  that  I  do  not  mean  you  shall 
have  at  my  cost,  it  will  give  you  the  good  news  that 
I  am  no  more. 

"  Yours  as  you  may  take  me, 

"  Geoffkey  Pembroke." 

In  the  tranquil  tone  of  this  rather  blunt  missive— 
that  was  cynical,  yet  did  not  parade  its  cynicism ;  that 
called  the  dead   one  mother,  yet  had  no  hysterical 


152 


tenderness  in  it;  that  was  as  sincere  and  downright 
as  Pettibone  liad  known  him  who  wrote  it  from  his 
boyhood  np — the  father  saw  the  full  dawn  of  a  truth 
that  had  already  glimmered  at  the  horizon  of  his 
thoughts. 

^' And  he  is  dead  too,"  said  Heuben  ;  "and  she  is 
dead,  and  Jack  is  gone.  Only  two  left  of  us.  Well, 
well !  How  pleasant  it  must  be  to  lie  down  and 
forget  all !" 

Reuben  gave  one  indication  that  this  communica- 
tion did  not  run  in  the  commonplace  groove  of 
life.  He  did  not  mention  it  toLsetitia.  She  never- 
theless soon  knew  all  about  it,  for  the  singular  super- 
scription had  attracted  attention  in  the  post-office, 
and  had  been  a  great  deal  talked  about,  and  many 
easy  inferences  were  made ;  so  that  the  report  spread 
that  the  Pettibones  had  news  from  the  army  that 
Pembroke  was  dead,  and  Lsetitia  was  asked  about  it. 

Thereupon  Lsetitia  rushed  home,  ransacked  her 
father's  tables  and  desks,  found  the  letter  and  read 
it  with  sarcastic  comment  upon  its  reference  to  her- 
self, and  with  exulting  satisfaction  at  the  close. 

"  "Well,"  she  said,  "  that  changes  things.  I'm  glad 
I  kept  the  mourning  I  wore  for  ma.  Crape  feels 
horrid  against  the  skin,  but  they  make  it  in  pretty 
shapes  now.  Hum!  hum!  What  shall  I  wear? 
This  saves  what  the  divorce-suit  would  have 
cost." 

And  she  sat  down  and  reflected  upon  the  advan- 
tageous position  in  society  of  the  widoAVof  a  gallant 
fellow  who  had  died  for  his  country. 


THE   PETTIBONE   FAMILY.  153 

As  a  widow  of  that  variety  she  would  enjoy  social 
advantages  of  which  she  had  been  deprived.  But  a 
few  days  before  she  had  been  a  person  occnpying  a 
somewhat  equivocal  position — a  married  woman 
without  a  husband;  abandoned,  yet  not  free;  and 
her  opinion  of  her  absent  lord  was  such  as  women 
of  a  vixen-like  nature  commonly  hold  toward  all 
persons  who  have  in  any  way  caused  them  the 
chagrin  of  mortified  vanity. 

People  would  now  say  that  that  quiet  fellow 
Pembroke  had  not  been  the  sort  of  man  to  strut  up 
and  down  the  street  of  the  town  in  a  blue  coat  and 
brass  buttons  and  exult  in  the  empty  glorifications 
of  war,  but  had  gone  away  without  a  word  and  en- 
listed as  a  private  soldier  in  a  regiment  which  had 
proved  one  of  excellent  fighting  qualities,  and  that 
in  such  company  he  had  won  his  epaulets.  He 
would  therefore  be  suddenly  a  famous  fellow  in  the 
speeches  of  all  men  and  women,  and  Lsetitia  as  his 
bereaved  widow  would  enjoy  this  jpost-rriorteTifh 
glory. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  patriotic  spirit  in  that 
neighborhood,  and  such  an  association  as  Lsetitia 
now  had  with  the  fame  of  a  dead  soldier  was  the 
best  possible  title  to  social  consideration.  It  gave 
precedence  over  claims  of  family  and  even  wealth ; 
and  thus  it  would  happen  that  many  ladies  who  since 
the  fall  in  the  Pettibone  fortunes  had  scarcely  been 
able  to  see  Lsetitia  when  they  met  her  would  now 
always  see  her,  and  rush  at  her  with  the  warmth  of 


154 

fashionable  adulation.  She  would  consequently  have 
the  opportunity  to  settle  some  old  scores  by  turning 
the  cold  shoulder  now. 

''And  I  will  do  it,  too,"  she  said.  "But  shall  I 
Avear  a  crape  bonnet  or  one  of  those  new-fashioned 
hats?" 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

MES.  Pembroke's  projects. 

Theee  was  one  person  in  Maine  who  was  not  al- 
together pleased  with  the  turn  that  things  had  thus 
taken.  This  was  Mr.  Chipperton  Chawpnej— or 
Lawyer  Chawpennj,  as  the  people  called  him. 
This  gentleman  argued  that  his  true  name  was  Chor- 
penning,  shortened  accidentally  by  careless  pronun- 
ciation ;  but  the  people  insisted  that  it  was  Chawpen- 
ny.  He  wrote  it  Chawpney,  and  thus  compromised 
between  prejudice  and  theory.  He  was  one  of  the 
rising  men  of  that  region;  a  bright  lawyer,  who 
had  gained  some  important  cases,  had  been  in  the 
legislature,  and  seemed  to  see  his  way  clear  to  a 
fine  practice  at  a  future  period.  He  had  been  Lse- 
titia's  counsel  in  the  divorce  proceedings,  and  was 
an  ardent  admirer  of  the  lady. 

As  an  admirer  it  might  be  supposed  he  would 
rejoice  that  she  was  now  so  easily  free  of  the  ante- 
cedent matrimonial  restraint,  even  though  as  a  law- 
yer he  had  to  regret  the  loss  of  a  good  bit  of  impor- 
tant practice.  But  it  was  not  so.  He  had  indeed 
hoped  that  Lsetitia  would  be  under  obligation  to  his 
devotion  as  an  advocate  for  her  freedom,  and  that 
gratitude  would  open  the  way  to  her  heart ;  and 
whereas  in  that  position  he  w^as  the  only  aspirant 


156 

for  the  hand  that  he  saw  would  be  an  object  of  pur- 
suit, now  that  she  was  plainly,  obviously,  ostenta- 
tiously free  he  had  a  score  of  rivals,  and  almost 
despaired  of  his  prospects  in  that  direction. 

Inspired  by  the  diflSculties  that  thus  presented 
themselves,  Chawpney  went  into  the  paradise  in 
which  Lsetitia  was  now  happy,  and  whispered 
dreadful  things.  He  said  to  somebody,  one  day, 
that  nobody  knew  of  the  death  of  Pembroke  ex- 
cept from  his  own  account,  and  that  he  himself,  as 
counsel  for  several  life-insurance  companies,  was 
always  inclined  to  doubt  a  man's  report  of  his  own 
death.  As  to  the  notion  that  some  wounded  sol- 
diers had  confirmed  the  report,  who  had  seen  any 
of  these  soldiers  ? 

This  was  repoi-ted ;  and  when  it  fell  upon  the  ears 
of  those  women,  wives  and  daughters  of  quarter- 
masters and  sutlers,  to  whom  as  the  widow  of  a 
hero  Lsetitia  now  turned  the  cold  shoulder  of  su- 
periority, it  found  a  fertile  soil  and  grew  luxuri- 
antly. 

In  a  little  while  everybody  except  Lsetitia 
seemed  to  know  the  precise  detail  of  the  circum- 
stances by  which  "that  fellow  Pembroke"  had 
fooled  his  innocent  and  too  credulous  wife  with  a 
story  of  his  death.  Some  could  even  tell  how  he 
had  gone  over  to  the  enemy  wdth  a  part  of  his  com- 
pany and  invented  a  story  to  cover  the  dreadful 
shame.  Again  there  was  a  fall  in  the  pride  of  the 
Pettibone  family,  and  the  heart-broken  Lsetitia, 
when  she  heard  of  all  this,  confessed  to  herseK  that 


MRS.    PEMBROKE'S   PROJECTS.  157 

even  in  death — if  there  was  any  death  about  it — 
her  husband  was  "  a  scalawag." 

Chawpney  did  not  call  upon  Mrs.  Pembroke  to 
offer  condolences  in  her  bereavement.  Indeed,  he 
only  knew  her  professionally,  and  did  not  venture 
upon  such  a  liberty.  Mrs.  Pembroke,  however, 
called  upon  him  at  his  office  in  regard  to  the  pro- 
ceedings for  divorce  undertaken  by  him  in  her  in- 
terest. She  wished  to  know  the  present  position 
of  that  suit. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Pembroke,"  he  said,  opening  very 
widely  his  twinkling  light-colored  little  eyes,  "  you'll 
excuse  my  saying  so,  but  you  astonish  me  a  great 
deal  by  this  inquiry." 

"  Astonish  you  ?"  she  said.    "  How  so  ?" 

''  Why,  really,  really,  Mrs.  Pembroke —  Ah !  I  see 
how  it  is ;  in  your  trouble,  in  the  confusion  of  mind 
that  has  followed  upon  this  sad  incident,  you  have 
forgotten." 

"  Forgotten  what  ?"  she  said,  rather  shortly. 

"  Well,  it  appears  by  my  books,"  he  said,  leisurely 
turning  over  some  written  leaves  as  he  spoke,  "  I 
received. instructions  from  you,  or  professedly  from 
you,  to  discontinue  entirely  the  proceedings  for  di- 
vorce of  Lsstitia  Pembroke  against  Geoffrey  Pem- 
broke." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?"  she  said.  "  Instructions  from 
me?" 

"  Well,  unless  this  has  been  done  in  your  name, 
but  without  authority,  by  some  other  person." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  I  do  remember ;  I  did  it 


158  "as  we  went  marching  on." 

rnvrelf.  It  happened  in  tins  way.  At  that  time 
we  had  just  received  a  report  from  the  army  that 
Mr.  Pembroke  had  been  killed  in  a  battle ;  and  as 
that  would  naturally  make  such  a  suit  unnecessary, 
and  as  in  a  case  of  death  we  desire  to  put  aside  and 
forget  all  that  is  disagreeable  with  regard  to  the  lost 
ones,  I  wrote  that  in  an  impulsive  moment." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  was  quite  like  your  excellent 
nature  and  correct  taste  to  desire  to  forget  the  evil 
that  others  had  done  you ;  but  in  this  case  a  little,  as 
you  say,  impulsive." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  impulsive." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "impulsive." 

And  then  she  waited  and  hoped  he  would  go  on  ; 
but  he  didn't.  He  could  perceive  when  a  lady  had 
come  upon  a  pumping  expedition  as  readily  as  any 
man  in  Maine. 

"  Since  that,"  she  said,  "  w^e  have  heard  some  re- 
ports that  incline  us  to  believe  that  there  may  be 
some  deception." 

"  Ah  !" 

"  Yes ;  we  have  lieard  a  story  tliat  Mr.  Pembroke 
is  not  really  dead." 

Chawpney  only  answered  with  his  eyebrows, 
which  he  lifted  nearly  to  the  roots  of  his  hair — 
whitish,  short,  wide-awake-looking  hair. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  "you  have  yourself  some 
knowledge  upon  this  subject." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  have  heard  what  is  perhaps 
the  same  report  that  you  refer  to.  In  fact,  it  has 
been  printed  and  discussed  in  all  the  newspapers, 


MRS.    PEMBROKE'S   PROJECTS.  159 

and  everybody  has  heard  it.  It  is  a  public  scandal. 
But  I  have  no  knowledge  apart  from  that." 

"Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  somewhat  similar 
cases." 

"  Madam,"  and  little  Chawpney  assumed  an  air 
of  impressive  energy  as  he  said  this,  "  the  detective 
police  has  a  ponderous  record  of  the  names  of  men 
who  married  in  the  ISTortli  and,  forming  perhaps  new 
connections  elsewhere,  have  procured  the  publication 
of  tlie  report  of  tlieir  death  in  battle,  and  who, 
wronging  our  real  heroes  by  this  seizure  of  a  fame 
they  do  not  deserve,  are  rejoicing  in  their  villany 
with  the  facile  Delilahs  of  Southern  lands.  But 
pardon  my  warmth ;  I  forgot  for  the  moment  that 
your  husband — " 

"  Kot  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Pembroke.  "  My  husband 
may  very  likely  be  one  of  these ;  and  I  w4sh,  if  the 
proceedings  can  be  renewed — " 

'•  Oh,  certainly ;  there  has  been  no  court  since, 
and  the  discontinuance  is  on  my  books  merely." 

"  Then  I  wish  the  proceedings  to  go  on,"  she  said ; 
and  the  bereaved  widow,  at  Chaw^pney's  suggestion, 
gave  him  full  authority  to  act  for  her,  first  as  to 
the  important  point  of  getting  evidence  whether 
Pembroke  were  dead  or  alive,  and  next  to  obtain 
the  divorce  if  he  were  alive;  but  to  push  the  pro- 
ceedings with  the  greatest  possible  energy  if  he 
found  there  was  any  truth  in  these  stories  of  mis- 
conduct and  going  over  to  the  enemy,  because  she, 
as  a  patriotic  woman,  "could  not  for  a  moment  en- 


160  ''  AS   WE   WE]SrT   MARCHIKG   Oi>." 

dure  the  tlioiiglit  of  continuing  relations  witli  a  man 
who  was  a  traitor  to  liis  country." 

Cliawpney  mentioned  that  afternoon  to  several 
persons  in  the  town  that  '•  Mrs.  Pembroke  was  a 
noble  wonian  and  an  honor  to  her  sex,  and  had 
spoken  words  in  his  office  that  day  which  the  ancient 
Spartans  would  have  written  in  letters  of  gold  upon 
the  pediment  of  the  temple."  And  the  same  night  he 
left  for  'New  York  City  to  prosecute  his  inquiries 
into  the  fate  of  "  that  fellow  her  husband." 

There  was  at  that  time  a  daily  paper  called  The 
NewSy  which  was  a  convenient  and  recognized  me- 
dium of  communication  between  tlie  several  sections 
of  the  country.  People  in  the  South  who  wanted 
to  communicate  family  news  to  their  friends  resi- 
dent in  the  J^orth,  or  to  their  friends  who,  taken 
prisoners  by  the  army,  were  detained  in  the  North, 
got  advertisements  into  that  paper  in  some  way;  and 
people  in  the  North  who  wanted  to  communicate 
with  the  South  put  their  communications  into  that 
sheet  as  personal  advertisements,  with  the  certainty 
that  the  newspaper  would  get  through  the  lines, 
though  their  letters  would  not. 

Every  time  a  copy  of  that  sheet  got  through  the 
lines  the  Southern  papers  reproduced  all  these  no- 
tices ;  and  all  Southern  soldiers  in  Noi'thern  prisons 
eagerly  secured  it  in  the  hope  to  hear  from  home. 

Chawpney  resorted  to  this  medium.  He  might 
have  found  some  wounded  soldiers  of  the  Major's 
regiment  if  he  had  sought  diligently,  but  he  did  not 
want  the  most  direct  information.    Intelliofence  col- 


MRS.    PEMBROKE'S   PROJECTS.  161 

ored  ill  the  medium  of  an  enemy's  mind  might  be 
more  to  his  purpose.  He  inserted  an  advertisement 
calling  for  information  of  the  present  whereabouts 
and  condition  of  Geoffrey  Pembroke,  late  a  major 
of  volunteers  in  the  Union  army,  and  "now  or 
recently  in  hiding  somewhere  in  the  Shenandoah 
Yalley."  He  received  from  a  rebel  soldier  detained 
as  a  prisoner  of  war  at  David's  Island,  in  the  East 
River,  a  response  which  induced  him  to  visit  that 
soldier.  David's  Island  was  a  place  in  which  several 
hundred  prisoners  were  kept,  but  not  in  the  way 
in  which  our  fellows  were  kept  at  Anderson ville  and 
Libby. 

David's  Island  was,  in  fact,  one  of  Uncle  Sam's 
national  watering-places.  There  were  the  salty  air, 
the  stiff  sea-breeze  fresh  from  the  Sound,  and  the 
green  water  of  the  seaside;  and  there  also  the 
pleasant  rambles  under  trees  such  as  we  find  in 
a  summer  resort  in  the  hilly  country.  Roomy, 
clean,  brightly  whitewashed  dormitories  filled  long 
pavilions  recently  constructed ;  and  tempting  long 
tables  at  meal-time  reminded  one  of  summer  hotels, 
only  there  was  more  to  eat  than  the  average 
summer  hotel  vouchsafes.  Not  one  in  ten  of  the 
Southern  soldiers,  the  "  white  trash"  of  the  Southern 
States,  was  ever  half  so  well  housed  or  fed  at  home 
as  in  that  prison ;  and  here,  coming  broken  down 
from  Southern  battle-fields,  they  fed  up  and  recov- 
ered their  morale.  Rampant  rebels  resident  in  the 
North  visited  and  encouraged  them,  and  they  dis- 
cussed constitutional  theories. 
11 


162 

Nothing  there  astonished  Chawpney  so  much  as 
his  observation  of  the  little  industries  thej  fell  into 
to  earn  money  for  tobacco.  Uncle  Sam  did  not  sup- 
ply tobacco. 

"  Why,"  said  Chawpney,  "  these  chivalrous  gen- 
tlemen from  the  Southern  States  can  actually  whittle 
a  stick,  and  that  as  handily  as  any  Yankee  that  ever 
flourished  a  jack-knife.  From  one  piece  of  wood 
they  will  cut  an  imitation  of  a  whole  open  fan. 
Nutmegs  are  nothing  to  it." 

Now,  the  soldier  from  whom  Chawpney  had  heard 
was,  like  so  many  others  there,  a  North  Carolina 
man,  and  belonged  to  that  regiment  which  had  gone 
over  Company  H  in  the  night  at  Corkscrew  Cut. 
He  was  one  of  those  who  had  been  wounded  in  that 
collision,  and  was  so  badly  wounded  that  he  had  lain 
for  a  good  while  between  life  and  death  in  one  of 
the  houses  in  that  village  to  wdiicli  w^e  were  all 
taken  after  the  fight.  Just  as  he  had  nearly  recov- 
ered he  had  been  captured  by  a  movement  of  our 
cavalry.  He  consequently  knew  the  news  of  the 
neighborhood — or  thought  he  knew  it — for  a  period 
of  several  months  subsequently  to  the  time  when 
the  Major  had  been  left  for  dead  on  the  field.  But 
as  the  Braxtons  were,  in  taking  any  care  of  the 
Major,  really  giving  aid  and  comfort  to  a  wounded 
enemy,  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  they  would  keep 
secret  about  it ;  wherefore  this  soldier's  news  could 
only  be  a  series  of  the  accumulated  guesses  of  the 
people  down  in  the  valley.  But,  guesses  or  real 
news,  this  soldier  said  that  the  Major's  wounds  had 


MRS.    PEMBROKE'S    PROJECTS.  163 

not  proved  so  bad  as  were  at  first  reported,  and  that 
lie  bad  got  entirely  well ;  and  tbat  if  be  bad  not  re- 
turned be  was  a  deserter,  because  tbat  country  was 
now  all  inside  tbe  Notbern  lines. 

Meantime  tbere  bad  been  at  borne  in  Maine  some 
reaction  of  opinion  in  tbe  Major's  favor ;  and  wben 
Cbawpney's  report  was  triumphantly  made  public 
it  was  received  witli  indignation,  and  some  friends 
of  tbe  Major  demanded  tbat  an  inquiry  so  important 
should  not  stop  at  so  unsatisfactory  a  point.  Tbere 
was  a  movement  started,  indeed,  to  send  some  one 
down  to  bunt  tbe  Major  up,  on  tbe  theory  tbat  if 
alive  he  m.ust  be  helpless  somewhere  and  ought  to 
be  rescued  ;  with  the  alternative  notion  tbat  if  be 
was  a  deserter  indeed,  tbe  name  of  an  honorable 
family  was  involved,  and  tbat  family  should  be  the 
first  to  give  up  its  recreant  scion. 

Chawpney  beard  of  this  proposition  with  dismay, 
but  was  equal  to  tbe  occasion.  He  represented  to 
Lsetitia  that  she  should  herself  go  on  this  expedition 
to  show  her  duty  as  a  good  wife,  and  volunteered  to 
accompany  her.  He  represented  tbat  Frederick  in 
Maryland,  Winchester  in  Yirginia,  Leesburg,  and 
other  places  were  all  comfortable  towns  in  which 
she  could  be  as  secure  as  at  home,  and  from  these 
points  or  some  one  of  them  efficient  inquiries  could 
be  made. 

Lsetitia  saw  in  this  scheme  of  an  expedition  some 
attractive  features,  and  they  went. 

They  first  went  to  Washington,  taking  some  let- 
ters of  introduction  to  friends  there  ;  and  as  it  was 


164 

now  rainy  weather,  and  the  roads  were  taking  on  a 
wintry  condition,  they  were  much  advised  against 
the  attempt  to  pursue  their  efforts  in  Virginia  just 
tlien.  Washington  was  gay  also,  and  Lsetitia  en- 
joj^ed  its  social  pleasures,  while  Chawpney  im- 
proved the  occasion  to  work  up  some  political 
schemes.  They  halted  for  a  time  at  a  pleasant 
stage,  and  cultivated  a  knowledge  of  one  another. 
Lsetitia  had  by  this  time  become  fully  aware  of 
Chawpney's  ambition  with  respect  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

DR.  BRAXTON  PERFORMS  AN  OPERATION. 

Major  Pembroke  did  not  die. 

Upon  Dr.  Braxton's  return  from  the  journey 
made  to  save  some  of  his  property,  he  was  astonished 
to  learn  that  the  Yankee  major  was  still  alive.  He 
had  at  first  been  so  certain  the  Major  w^ould  die 
that  he  had  hastened  his  own  return,  because  of  the 
reflection  that  the  women  would  be  troubled  with 
the  difficulties  of  a  funeral ;  and  perhaps,  in  a  true 
scientific  spirit,  he  had  some  curiosity  to  know  the 
precise  course  that  ball  had  taken  in  the  brain.  In 
the  many  miseries  and  disappointments  of  those 
days,  an  interesting  autopsy  might  have  been  even  a 
distraction  and  a  consolation. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  great  vitality,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  His  surviving  such  a  wound  for  so  many  days  is 
unusual.     It  will  soon  be  over,  however." 

But  when  four  days  more  had  passed  and  the 
Major  was  certainly  not  losing  ground,  the  doctor 
began  to  go  oftener  to  gaze  upon  him  at  the  open 
window, — began  to  arch  his  eyebrows,  and  gently 
scratch  the  top  of  his  head  with  the  tip  end  of  the 
middle  linger  of  his  right  hand. 

"Perhaps  we  may  help  nature  a  little  and  pull 
him  through,"  he  said.     "  It  would  be  a  remarkable 


166  *'AS   WE   WEl^T  MARCHIl^G   OK." 

recovery.  There  has  been  but  little  apparent  hem- 
orrhage; and  there  cannot  have  been  much  con- 
cealed within  the  skull,  to  judge  from  his  condi- 
tion. From  the  direction  of  that  wound — let  me  see, 
now ! — yes,  it  has  touched  the  brain  in  front  of  the 
middle  meningeal  artery ;  it  has  passed  perhaps 
diagonally  under  or  inside  that  artery.  If  I  dared 
put  in  a  probe  now  !  But  no  ;  as  I  would  not  put 
it  in  at  first  because  there  was  no  hope,  it  would  be 
murder  to  put  one  in  now  that  there  may  be  liope. 
Perhaps  this  will  prove  one  of  those  marvellous 
lucky  cases." 

Thus  the  old  man  constantly  ran  on  in  his 
surgical  lingo,  partly  talking  to  himself,  partly  to 
those  about  him,  as  from  hour  to  hour  and  from 
day  to  day  new  features  of  the  Major's  case  pre- 
sented themselves  to  his  acute  perceptions.  He  was 
rather  an  unusual  kind  of  a  surgeon,  was  this  old 
Braxton ;  for  he  had  comparatively  small  faith  in 
surgery,  but  the  greatest  possible  faith  in  the  recu- 
perative forces  of  nature,  just  a  little  helped  by  sur- 
gery over  the  rough  places. 

"At  Montpellier,  in  Fj-ance,"  he  said, — for  the 
doctor  was  a  surgeon  who  came  down  from  the  days 
when  it  was  believed  that  no  surgical  education  was 
complete  unless  it  was  rounded  up  in  the  hospitals 
of  France, — "  at  Montpellier,  in  the  museum  of  the 
medical  school  there,  I  saw  a  skull  with  a  bullet 
held  against  the  inner  wall  by  spiculse  of  bone  which 
had  grown  around  it.  That  was  the  skull  of  a  vet- 
eran of  the  wars  of  old  ^N'aDoleon,  and  the  veteran 


DR.    BRAXTON   PERFORMS   AN   OPERATION.      167 

had  carried  that  bullet  for  forty  years.  If  one  sol- 
dier, why  not  another  ?  Then  there  was  the  crow- 
bar case.  A  fellow  in  the  J^orth,  somewhere,  had  a 
tamping-iron  driven  through  his  brain  in  careless 
blasting,  and  he  got  well.  But  we  must  keep  the 
suppuration  free.  There  is  the  case  mentioned  by 
Carnochan,  for  instance.  That  fellow  died  because 
the  wound  healed  superficially  and  the  suppuration 
was  pent  in." 

Sometimes  the  Major  was  an  out-and-out  madman 
in  his  violence,  and  but  that  there  was  some  paralysis 
of  the  muscles,  he  might  have  done  harm.  Then  his 
delirium  would  soften,  and  he  would  seem  to  be 
recounting  various  histories ;  but  they  never  could 
make  out  in  what  he  said  one  distinct  word.  He 
seemed  to  sleep  sometimes  tranquilly,  but  would 
start  from  it  always  as  from  a  nightmare. 

All  the  doctor  did  was  to  bleed  him,  and  put  little 
hard  rolls  of  lint  into  the  eds^e  of  the  wound. 

There  were  in  the  Major's  case  stages  of  varying 
condition  ;  an  alternation  of  mania-like  excitement 
and  half-dead  tranquillity.  Braxton  thought  that 
this  tranquillity  was  a  consequence  of  oppression 
through  pent-up  fluids  that  should  come  away  but 
could  not,  since  a  spontaneous  appearance  of  these 
always  made  a  change. 

As  one  of  the  periods  of  great  excitement,  with 
heat  of  the  head,  came  on,  while  Phoebe  slept  in 
the  next  room,  and  Agate  and  Naomi  were  with  the 
Major,  old  N^aomi,  seizing  a  large,  sharp  pair  of  scis- 
sors, cut  all  the  hair  off  the  Major's  head,  quite  close 


168 

to  the  scalp,  in  order  that  she  might  apply  cloths 
wet  with  cool  water  with  more  facility. 

Agate  was  indignant  at  this  act,  and  said  to  her 
mother : 

''De  Lord  didn't  give  you  no  right  to  cut  dat 
gentleman's  hair  dat  way." 

Bat  old  Naomi  put  her  aside  with  a  brusque 

"Don't  bodder  me,  chile.  I  iiussed  folks  wid 
brain-fever  'fore  you  was  thought  about." 

Phoebe  was  astonished  when  she  came  in  ;  but  she 
saw  the  advantage  of  this,  and  as  she  passed  her 
hand,  wet  with  cologne  and  water,  over  the  Major's 
head,  she  made  a  discovery.  At  a  point  on  the 
unwounded  side  of  the  cranium  she  came  upon  a 
slight  protuberance,  a  small,  round  elevation  of  the 
surface,  of  which  she  spoke  to  her  father. 

That  was  a  day  of  great  excitement  for  the  old 
doctor.  He  ran  his  palpigerous  fingers  two  or  three 
times  delicately  over  that  nodule,  and  then  straight- 
ened himself  up  and  passed  both  his  hands  with  his 
fingers  open  like  rakes  through  his  short  gray  hair 
as  if,  feeling  a  need  for  more  room  in  his  head,  he 
would  like  to  lift  the  roof  off  it.  Then  he  walked 
about  the  room  two  or  three  times  without  any  ob- 
ject, but  pretending  one  object  or  another;  making 
believe  to  shut  the  door  against  the  draught,  though 
there  was  no  draught,  or  to  open  the  window,  though 
it  was  open  already;  from  all  which  conduct  Phoebe 
perceived  that  her  papa  was  "  nervous." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  calmed  down  somewhat, 
aud  settled  himself  at  the  bedside  with  his  fingers 


DR.    BRAXTON  PERFORMS  AN  OPERATION.      169 

fastened  as  if  by  new  nervous  attacliment  on  that 
nodule,  and  with  the  unmistakable  face  of  a  man 
who  reasons  on  what  he  believes  he  feels,  but  can 
see  only  with  the  more  or  less  clairvoyant  vision  of 
the  mind's  eye. 

At  last  he  said : 

"That  must  be  it;  the  ball  is  there!  But  if 
it  is,  it  has  been  there  all  the  time  ;  and  how 
did  I  miss  it  at  first?  That  is  what  I  cannot 
make  out.  But  what  then?  Patients  must  not 
be  the  worse  because  of  a  surgeon's  adherence  to 
theories  that  may  be  founded  on  error.  It  ought 
to  come  out.  And  yet,  since  he  has  done  so  well 
with  it  there,  would  not  any  operation  now  be  an 
interference  with  a  healing  process?  "Well,  well! 
as  it  has  been  so  comfortable  there  all  these  days, 
there  is  no  need  to  be  precipitate." 

And  the  doctor  went  out  and  tramped  the  wood- 
land paths  on  the  mountain-side  to  clear  his  clogged 
thoughts. 

No  doubt  it  happens  often  to  a  good  doctor  to 
stand  at  the  turning-point  where  Braxton  then 
found  himself. 

He  may  touch  a  trouble  liappily  if  lie  acts  and  so 
save  a  life ;  yet  he  may  also  blunder  clumsily  into 
some  delicate  proceeding  of  curative  nature  and 
break  it  all  up.  This,  if  he  acts ;  and  if  he  does 
not  act,  the  golden  moment  may  go  by  at  whicli  a 
touch  of  his  art  would  have  given  victory  in  the 
fight  for  life. 

Some    vio^orous   exercise   on    the    mountain-side 


170  '*AS   WE   WE1^"T   3IARCHIKG   OX." 

brouglit  the  doctor  once  more  to  clear  and  unper- 
turbed perceptions. 

It  is  one  of  tlie  mysteries  of  life  that  an  energetic 
use  of  the  muscles  clears  the  mind  with  many  per- 
sons. Cardinal  Richelieu  and  JS^apoleon  are  named 
as  persons  to  whom  at  times  an  almost  desperate 
physical  activity  was  necessary.  Somehow  that  ac- 
tivity restores  a  lost  equilibrium.  It  is  as  if  a  stream 
of  vital  energy  came  upon  the  delicate  cerebral 
machinery  and  overwliehned  the  intellectual  opera- 
tions by  its  volume  and  its  force ;  but  this  stream 
being  turned  to  drive  the  mill-wheel  of  the  muscles, 
the  mind  gets  no  more  than  it  wants  and  goes  on 
smoothly. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  came  in,  he  quietly  told 
Agate  to  get  him  her  father's  shaving-brush,  soap, 
and  razor,  which  she  as  quietly  did  ;  and  the  doctor 
without  a  word  more  sat  down  beside  the  bed,  turned 
the  Major's  head  easily  on  the  pillow,  and  lathered 
and  shaved  all  the  space  about  that  little  nodule, 
making  it  as  clean  as  was  possible  for  one  not  much 
used  to  shaving  others. 

Then  at  a  sign  Phoebe  brought  a  case  of  instru- 
ments from  the  top  of  Naomi's  bureau,  and  kneeled 
beside  the  bed  and  hid  her  face. 

Next,  as  easily  as  you  lay  open  a  roasted  chestnut 
with  your  pen-knife,  Braxton,  with  two  straight  cuts 
that  crossed  each  other  at  right  angles,  went  to  the 
bone  over  that  nodule,  and  carefully  laid  back  the  four 
little  flaps  thus  made.  He  discovered  then  that  a 
trephine,  the  absence  of  which  had  troubled  him, 


DR.    BUAXTON   PERFORMS   AN   OPERATION.      171 

would  not  have  been  necessary  if  lie  had  had  it,  for 
the  ball  had  reached  this  part  of  the  cranium  with 
just  enough  force  left  to  get  clearly  through  the 
inner  table  of  the  skull,  and  to  crush  but  not  pierce 
the  outer  table  ;  and  the  comminuted  fragments  of 
bone  were  easily  picked  away  with  a  forceps.  In 
fifteen  minutes  from  the  time  the  doctor  came  in 
he  had  the  bullet  in  his  hand. 

In  consequence  of  this  operation  the  wound 
drained  itself;  for  the  Major's  head  w^as  pierced 
through  and  through,  as  the  ball  had  hit  him  on 
the  left  side  rather  higher  than  the  top  of  the  ear, 
but  more  to  the  front,  and  was  taken  out  at  about 
the  same  distance  above  and  behind  the  ear  on  the 
other  side. 

Many  times  that  night  the  doctor  went  in  and  felt 
his  patient's  pulse  ;  and  that  night  it  was  for  the  first 
time  satisfactory.  There  was  gone  from  it  a  hard 
point  of  irritation  that  it  had  never  been  without. 
Now  it  was  soft  and  even ;  and  at  daylight  next  day 
Braxton  said  for  the  first  time  confidently  that  he 
believed  the  Major  would  get  well. 

But  a  shade  of  doubt  had  already  come  over  the 
thoughts  of  some,  in  that  little  home,  as  to  the  con- 
dition he  would  be  in  intellectually  if  lie  did  in- 
deed recover  otherwise.  Naomi,  wdio  was  perhaps 
not  more  acute  than  the  others,  but  was  certainly 
more  outspoken,  had  already  several  times  in  her 
blunt  words  given  form  to  a  vague  fear. 

^'Sure's  yer  born,"  she  said,  "I  b'lieve  dat  gentle- 
man  loss   his  sense ;  don't  know  what's  goin'  on  ; 


172  "  AS   WE   WEKT  MARCHING   ON-/' 

can  jes'  hear  and  see ;  can't  hardly  say  a  word  ; 
don't  want  to  look  at  nothin'  but  Phoebe." 

How  they  first  comprehended  the  Major's  condi- 
tion it  is  liard  to  say.  Tliere  seems  to  be  some 
knowledge  that  people  acquire  more  by  absorption 
than  perception,  and  they  are  themselves  unable  to 
give  an  account  of  how  they  came  by  it.  Some- 
body had  at  first  thought  that  the  Major  did  not 
hear,  because  what  was  said  did  not  seem  to  make 
an  impression  on  his  mind,  though  there  was  no 
mania  and  he  was  evidently  more  or  less  conscious. 
But  having  their  attention  turned  to  this  point  of 
possible  deafness  and  watching  acutely,  they  became 
satisfied  that  noises  did  attract  his  attention. 

He  could  hear,  then ;  but  words  spoken  to  him 
seemed  to  awaken  no  intellectual  response.  He 
would  indicate  by  looks  of  unmistakable  satisfaction 
how  agreeable  it  was  to  have  his  pillows  changed,  or 
to  be  helped  into  a  new  position  when  weary  with 
one  maintained  for  many  hours ;  and  yet  if  asked 
the  minute  before  whether  he  would  like  this  to  be 
done,  he  would  only  turn  his  large  mild  eyes  toward 
the  questioner  with  an  aspect  of  uninterested  inquiry 
or  weary  indifference. 

As  to  all  this  the  doctor  expressed  no  opinion 
until  about  ten  days  after  the  bullet  was  out,  and 
that  was  nearly  three  weeks  from  the  time  the 
Major  was  hurt.  By  that  period  the  Major  had 
made  a  marvellous  progress  toward  recovery,  yet 
he  had  never  spoken  a  word,  nor  seemed  to  under- 
stand one.     Then  the  old  doctor  said  : 


DR.    BRAXTON   PERFORMS   AN   OPERATION.      173 

"There  is  no  dou])t  tliat  the  third  convolution 
has  been  in  part  involved  and  perhaps  disorganized  ; 
bnt  there  must  also  have  been  yet  more  extensive 
interference  with  the  functions  of  the  hemispheres." 

Tliis  did  not  convey  much  information  to  the 
others  until  Aunt  Hetty,  by  persistent  questioning 
as  to  the  words  "convolutions,"  "  hemispheres,"  etc., 
drew  out  the  plain  English  of  what  the  doctor  in- 
tended to  say  ;  which  was  that  that  part  of  the  brain 
which  was  most  hurt  by  the  bullet  was  precisely 
the  part  which  is  the  seat  of  the  function  of  speech, 
and  that  the  Major  had  probably  lost  entirely  all 
those  intellectual  conceptions  that  lie  at  the  root  of 
the  communication  of  our  thoughts  or  impressions 
by  language.  And  the  doctor  also  thought  that 
the  Major  had  lost  in  some  greater  or  less  degree 
the  function  of  memory. 

Aunt  Hetty  was  not  a  woman  to  be  satisfied  with 
any  half-knowledge  on  so  new  a  world  of  facts  as 
this  opened  to  view,  and  extorted  little  by  little 
such  information  as  she  could,  until  she  compre- 
hended that  the  loss  of  memory  might  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  have  blotted  out  from  the  man's  mind 
every  fact  of  his  life  recorded  there ;  and  that  if 
the  loss  of  speech  was  absolute  as  seemed,  it  might 
remain  so  for  what  was  left  of  life ;  or  the  Major 
might  acquire  speech  again,  word  by  word,  as  a 
child  does;  or  suddenly  some  day,  under  the  in- 
fluence perhaps  of  a  great  emotion,  language, 
memory,  all  would  come  to  him  again,  like  a  blaze 
of  liojht. 


174  "AS   WE   WEiq"T  MARCHIKG   ON." 

The  doctor  made  a  picturesque  comparison  to  en- 
able Aunt  Hettj  to  distinctly  understand  this. 

"His  brain,"  he  said,  "his  old  brain — the  brain 
he  had  that  night — has  been  overwhelmed  by  tlie 
fire  and  heat  and  changes  of  a  fierce  inflammation, 
as  some  of  the  ancient  cities  were  overwhelmed  and 
lost  in  floods  of  lava;  and  a  new  brain,  like  a  new 
city,  may  grow  above  it.  But  some  day  there  may 
be  a  great  row  in  the  new  city ;  an  accident  may 
crush  a  place  through  the  crust,  and  the  streets  of 
the  new  and  the  old  will  run  together." 

Meantime  the  Major,  once  in  a  fair  way  of  im- 
provement, went  on  rapidly,  and  began  really  to  get 
well ;  and  all  the  little  company  there,  misled  at 
first  as  to  his  sanity  by  his  incapacity  to  make  it 
evident,  but  understanding  now  how  this  was,  saw 
easily  enongh,  hour  by  hour,  that  his  mind  was  as 
clear  as  any  one's  except  as  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
without  speech — or  without  words,  rather,  for  he 
had  utterance  and  talked  gibberish. 

His  possession  of  the  power  of  speech,  that  is,  so 
far  as  the  voice  goes  merely,  was  made  evident  in 
a  way  that  at  first  had  a  somewhat  comical  effect. 
He  seemed  to  watch  intently  the  lips  of  persons  who 
talked,  and  then  to  endeavor  by  mere  imitation  to 
repeat  what  the  person  said.  He  succeeded  first 
with  Naomi.  She  had  not  the  liberal  vocabulary  of 
the  others,  perhaps,  and  therefore  depended  more 
upon  a  few  set  phrases  which  answered  for  many 
occasions.  One  of  these,  her  customary  utterance 
of  impatience,  was,  "  Don'  bodder  me,  tell   yei*." 


DR.    BRAXTOK    PERFORMS   AN   OPERATIOIS'.       175 

Pembroke  caught  this  np  and  repeated  it  like  a  poll- 
parrot,  and  it  became  with  him  a  name  for  Naomi. 
As  soon  as  she  came  into  the  room  he  always  said 
it,  to  her  extreme  delight ;  the  more,  perhaps,  because 
he  repeated  so  accurately  the  darky  intonation. 

He  caught  a  phrase  from  Agate  also,  which  seemed 
to  answer  with  him  in  the  same  way  as  a  sound 
of  personal  identification.  This  was,  "  Some  o'  de 
essence."  Agate  often  brought  him  a  bowl  of  soup, 
which,  as  it  was  made  in  the  kitchen  from  meat-juice, 
was  a  kind  of  gravy-soup,  and  all  such  juices  the 
darkies  called  essence ;  and  when  she  brought  in  this 
refreshment,  never  getting  well  used  to  his  want  of 
comprehension,  she  always  asked,  as  she  would  have 
done  with  any  other,  if  he  would  have  "  some  o'  de 
essence." 

He  associated  the  sounds  with  the  two  as  a  child 
calls  a  dog  a  "  bow-wow." 

In  the  same  way  he  called  the  old  doctor  "  How 
is  he  now  ?"  because  that  was  his  customarj^  inquiry  ; 
and  he  called  Aunt  Hetty  "  Heigh-ho  !  says  Kowley," 
for  that  old  dame,  sitting  for  hours  quiet  with 
her  thoughts,  had  a  habit  of  coming  out  with  a 
"  Heigh-ho  !"  and,  reflecting  that  that  expression  of 
the  sense  of  the  tediousness  of  things  was  not  com- 
plimentary to  those  about  her,  had  equally  acquired 
the  habit  of  giving  her  melancholy  exclamation  a 
humorous  turn  by  associating  it  with  the  old  nursery- 
rhyme. 

Pembroke  often  brought  these  phrases  out  in 
ways  so  amusingly  inappropriate,  or  even  apt,  as  to 


176  ''AS   WE   WEIiTT  MARCHIKG   OK." 

make  every  one  very  merry,  and  tlieir  laughing 
seemed  to  please  and  cheer  him. 

But  although  the  Major  had  no  words,  it  is  won- 
derful how  he  became  the  autocrat  of  that  establish- 
ment and  governed  it  with  his  eyes.  But  this  is  the 
common  attribute  of  an  invalid  around  whose  bed 
or  chair  a  little  world  like  that  revolves,  and  toward 
whom  are  turned  all  the  sympathies,  wishes,  and 
daily  and  hourly  thoughts  of  a  circle  of  amiable 
and  generous  persons. 

"  But  he  has  a  memory,  then,"  said  Aunt  Hetty 
one  day  suddenly,  as  they  fell  into  a  moment  of 
silence  after  langhing  at  one  of  these  odd  happen- 
ings of  the  Major's  names  for  those  about  him. 

^'  Yes,"  said  Phoebe  ;  "  but  papa  did  not  say  that 
liis  memory  was  gone  in  that  sense.  His  memory 
may  be  perfect  for  things  to  be  learned  now,  but  is 
gone  as  to  what  happened  before." 

"  It  is  like  a  slate,  I  suppose,"  said  Hetty,  *'  from^ 
which  the  sums  have  been  wiped  off,  but  upon 
which  new  sums  may  be  written." 

^*  Or  like  a  tree  stripped  in  a  storm  upon  which 
new  leaves  will  grow,"  said  Phoebe. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  know  whether  he  was  a 
married  man !"  said  Aunt  Hetty  ;  and  then  no  other 
observation  was  made  for  that  occasion. 


CHAPTER    XYJ. 

PHCEBE    SEEKS    COUNSEL. 

Ph(ebe  had  passed  through  singular  phases  of  ex- 
perience in  these  consecutive  months  of  psychical 
agitation.  For  one,  she  had  never  believed  that  the 
Major's  reason  was  gone.  That  painful  guess  was 
not  hers.  In  the  Major's  eyes — large,  soft,  eloquent, 
rational  eyes,  that  I'oamed  uneasily  about  the  room 
from  point  to  point  when  they  did  not  find  Phoebe, 
and  rested  upon  her  with  supreme  tranquillity  when 
she  came  into  view — she  saw  unmistakably,  as  she 
believed,  that  this  man's  intellect  was  a  force  which 
had  not  yet  dashed  out  beyond  the  control  of  ordi- 
nary human  influences. 

But  the  little  lady  kept  this  opinion  secret. 

]^ext,  however,  as  she  heard  of  a  lost  memory, 
merely,  and  lost  speech,  and  as  these  losses  seemed  to 
indicate  only  that  the  accumulations  of  the  intellect 
were  gone,  and  not  the  intellect  itself, — as  it  might  be 
the  loss  of  a  treasure,  but  not  of  the  tre;isure-finder, — 
the  explanation  ran  concurrently  with  her  own  obser- 
vations, and  she  accepted  it ;  and  the  thoughts  if  sug- 
gested opened  to  her  singular  speculations  upon  the 
future. 

Where  was  all  this  to  end  ? 
12 


178 

Before  this  time  every  one  of  all  that  little 
company  had,  as  if  by  a  common  truce  of  sym- 
pathy, forgotten  alike  the  thought  of  the  morrow, 
and  lived  in  the  daily  and  even  hourly  interest 
they  felt  for  the  Major.  Picked  up  at  first  as 
a  man  slain  almost  in  their  presence,  they  had 
watched  over  him  only  to  do  for  him  the  best  servi- 
ces that  can  be  done  for  any  one  ;  and  Phoebe,  never 
for  a  moment  imagining  that  his  death  was  not  mo- 
mentarily imminent,  had  passed  hours  on  her  knees 
at  the  bedside  with  her  little  morocco-bound  prayer- 
book  before  her  eyes,  commending  the  passing  life 
to  the  Giver. 

But  as  the  fatal  stroke  was  delayed,  and  death 
seemed  to  play  with  hope,  Phoebe  earnestly  prayed 
that  the  brighter  possibility  might  be  realized:  yet 
always  without  any  other  thought  than  that  of  a 
merciful  little  Christian  who  instinctively  wishes 
that  the  best  may  come  to  all. 

And  thus  insensibly  from  point  to  point  of  expe- 
rience she  had  grown — without  any  perception  on  her 
own  part,  entirely  without  consciousness  of  it — into 
such  relations  of  deep  sympathy  and  interest  with 
this  man,  into  such  a  daily  hanging  upon  his  fate, — 
the  fate  of  an  enemy,  an  accidental  person  in  her 
life, — that  now,  when  it  was  recognized  he  would 
live,  she  was  startled  and  amazed  as  she  asked  her- 
self. What  then  ? 

Some  women  are  themselves  equal  to  every  emer- 
gency of  life  ;  but  those  hard-headed  ones  are  hard- 
hearted also.     They  are  gorgons.     They  are  equal 


PHCEBE  SEEKS  COUNSEL.  179 

to  all  occasions,  simply  because  no  event  readies 
an}^  sensitive  point  in  tlieir  natures. 

All  the  lovable  little  women,  however,  instinct- 
ively want  help,  and  differ  from  one  another  only 
as  to  the  points  in  the  compass  of  life  toward  which 
they  turn  to  look  for  it.  But  this  is  a  result  that  is 
determined  by  the  character  of  the  woman.  Some 
liave  friends— men  or  women,  as  the  case  may  be — 
whose  advice  pierces  all  the  clouds  of  doubt.  Some 
have  a  brother ;  some  go  to  mother,  some  to  father ; 
and  some  hie  quietly  away  to  a  dim  corner  of  the 
church  and  pray  for  divine  assistance. 

Phoebe,  if  she  had  had  a  mother,  would  have  gone 
to  her  with  all  the  vague  thoughts  which  she  could 
not  herself  formulate,  but  which  concerned  the  new 
possibilities  of  the  Majors  recovery.  She  had  no 
mother ;  and  though  Aunt  Hetty  was  there,  she  did 
not  go  to  her,  because  that  goodly  dame's  advice 
would,  she  knew,  be  framed  entirely  on  those  as- 
pects of  the  case  which  were  perceptible  to  the  in- 
tellect ;  while  the  cry  of  an  impulsive  heart  and  a 
warm,  emotional  nature  would  not,  she  believed,  be 
lieard  in  that  court. 

Phoebe's  only  resource  was  a  dim  corner  in  a  little 
out-of-the-way  church,  to  be  reached  by  the  beaiitiful 
woodland  paths,  to  which  she  went  every  night, 
with  Agate  for  company. 

In  those  days  religion  w^as  kept  alive,  like  the 
sacred  fire  upon  the  Caucasian  hill,  by  inner  im- 
pulses, and  with  little  assistance  from  church  cere- 
monial.    Nevertheless  the  church  was  there ;  a  dim, 


180 

silect,  m^^stic  corner  of  this  stormy  earth,  like  the 
hither  end  of  a  solemn  vista  whose  other  end  is  be- 
yond the  stars ;  and  there,  sometimes,  there  was 
even  service,  for  a  tough-minded  soldier-preacher 
from  Winchester  now  and  then  made  godly  raids 
through  the  wilderness  to  comfort  the  faithful. 

Phoebe  was  not  a  devotee.  But  they  are  in  error 
who  suppose  that  the  only  form  which  piety  assumes 
in  woman  is  an  absolute  negation  of  all  of  life  but 
what  is  related  to  the  formalities  and  seasons  of 
religious  services.  She  was  not  a  very  religious 
person.  She  was  not  a  wicked  woman,  certainly ; 
far  from  it,  indeed.  ISTeither  was  she  an  oppres- 
sively goody-goody  one.  She  was  in  this  respect 
about  as  the  world  of  agreeable  women  are.  They 
are  not  the  devil's  daughters,  because  they  have  been 
brought  up,  as  the  phrase  goes,  to  fear  the  Lord, — 
and  do  indeed  fear  those  tilings  that  are  threatened 
in  all  religious  schemes.  Neither  are  they  quite 
given  up  to  the  law  and  the  gospel,  because  a 
bright-witted  little  lady  does  not  surrender  the  im- 
pulses of  a  feminine  nature  to  a  rule  that  would 
suppress  even  an  extra  blue  ribbon  on  a  summer's 
day. 

It  was  warm  human  blood  that  was  in  Phoebe's 
veins,  and  not  holy-water ;  and  yet  those  trips  to 
the  church  were  a  comfort  to  her,  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  they  satisfied  her  mind  that  she 
was  taking  the  best  advice  upon  her  difficulties. 

From  that  time  Phoebe's  thoughts  and  her  whole 
life  ran  strictly  and  simj)ly  in  the  way  of  nature. 


PHCEBE   SEEKS  COUNSEL.  181 

Destiny  had  thrown  her  and  the  Major  together  in 
this  singular  way;  and  watching  over  him  day  by  day, 
shcjwitli  all  the  rest  indeed,  had  grown  to  feel  a  tender 
regard  for  him.  And  then  as  his  recovery  had  gone 
on  and  made  famous  progress,  it  had  fallen  espe- 
cially to  her  lot  to  sit  with  him  through  the  winter 
days  in  IN'aomi's  room,  and  through  the  long  days 
of  the  next  summer  on  that  piazza ;  and  she  had 
indeed  retanght  him,  so  far  as  he  knew  it,  his  mother- 
tongue.  From  that  dainty  mouth  he  had  caught  and 
learned  once  more  the  wonderful  trickeries  of 
speech. 

That  they  should  fall  irretrievably  in  love  with 
one  another  was  not  merely  inevitable.  It  would 
have  been  a  treason  against  the  divine  law  which 
made  woman  for  man  and  man  for  woman,  if  it  had 
happened  otherwise. 

For  the  world,  even,  admits  all  the  authority 
of  that  divine  rule,  w^ith  this  limitation  only :  that 
there  shall  be  no  existing  contrary  obligation.  And 
where  was  there  any  contrary  obligation  in  this 
case? 

Arthur  on  one  side,  you  will  say,  and  the  people 
in  Maine  upon  the  other.  Nobody  had  ever  heard 
a  word  of  Arthur  since  the  time  he  left  the  camp 
that  niofht  about  ten  months  before ;  and  when  a 
man  has  not  made  even  the  littlest  ripple  upon  the 
surface  of  the  sea  of  life  in  that  time,  and  when  such 
silence  in  a  soldier  coincides  with  a  period  in  which 
there  has  been  a  battle,  with  ten  thousand  killed 
and  wounded  on  either  side,  and  when  hundreds 


182  *^AS   WE   WEJ!5"T   MARCHIKG   OX.'' 

of  those  left  on  "  fame's  eternal  camping-ground " 
were  recorded  as  unknown,  everybody  assumes  tliat 
lie  was  probably  one  of  tlie  unrecognized  dead. 

As  tlie  Major's  past  life  was  erased  from  his  own 
brain,  he  also  seemed  to  be  as  completely  erased  from 
the  record  Uiat  life  elsewhere  had  kept  of  him. 
They  could  not  doubt  that  he  had  been  reported  as 
killed  that  night,  and  that  his  friends,  wherever  and 
whoever  they  were,  had  accepted  that  report  as  the 
end  of  the  story.  Therefore,  as  he  was  lost  to  his 
friends  and  they  lost  to  him,  what  was  there  in  all  his 
actual  life  but  what  had  occurred  in  this  valley  ? 
They  were  like  two  shipwrecked  and  cast  alone  on 
some  beautiful  island  in  a  summer  sea — lost  to  the 
world,  as  the  world  to  them ;  yet  all  the  world  to 
one  another. 

Therefore  Phoebe  knew  well  that  love  for  her 
was  the  one  impulse  of  Pembroke's  life  months  be- 
fore there  could  be  any  words  exchanged  upon  that 
subject ;  and  he  knew — it  was  the  first  delicious  dis- 
covery of  a  new  life — that,  heart  and  soul,  Phoebe 
was  his. 

Neither  was  there  any  one  near  to  be  surprised  as 
all  this  made  itself  plain,  for  all  had  seen  it  grow. 
With  Aunt  Hetty,  with  Naomi,  with  Agate,  it  had 
become  a  matter  of  course.  And  when  they  went 
to  the  little  church  one  day  in  the  beautiful  sunset- 
hour  and  were  married,  if  any  there  thought  it 
perilous  for  Phoebe's  future,  they  thought  also  that 
it  was  an  inevitable  stroke  of  destiny. 

But  it  might  not  have  gone  to  this  if  Dr.  Braxton 


PHCEBE   SEEKS   COUNSEL.  183 

liad  remained  on  the  scene.  He  had  indeed  been 
often  made  uneasy  by  the  thought  of  Phoebe's  re- 
lation to  the  Major,  and  had  repeatedly  said  to 
Hetty,  "  We  do  not  know  this  man's  histoij  ;  who 
he  is  or  what  he  is.  He  certainly  may  have  a  wife 
at  his  home  in  the  IS'orth."  Braxton  had  even  caused 
some  inquiry  to  be  made  by  his  friends  for  a  Pem- 
broke family  in  New  York,  but  had  found  none ;  a 
fact  due,  of  course,  to  the  circumstance  that  the 
Major,  though  in  a  ]^ew  York  regiment,  was  from 
another  State. 

Her  father's  objection  to  the  marriage,  if  he  had 
been  there  to  make  it,  would  have  been  the  last 
word  of  the  law  to  Phoebe ;  but  he  was  not  there. 
He  passed  in  these  days  the  greater  part  of  his 
time  at  Braxton  House,  coming  over  the  mountain 
only  to  visit  the  women  and  the  Major  from  time 
to  time ;  and  he  endured  much  in  the  endeavor  to 
save  his  house  from  marauders.  He  had  finally,  in 
some  collision  of  intemperate  words,  got  into  trouble 
with  the  Federal  authorities  and  been  carried  away 
a  prisoner  to  Alexandria.  His  absence  had  been  a 
new  and  terrible  stroke  of  calamity  to  Hetty,  who 
soon  made  up  her  mind  she  was  never  to  see  him 
again.  She  in  this  new  trouble  gave  up  her  thoughts 
to  melancholy  forebodings  that  dealt  with  the  possi- 
bilities of  her  own  removal,  in  one  way  or  another, 
as  tlie  next  thing  to  be  looked  for ;  and  then  wdiat 
was  to  become  of  Phcebe,  left  w^ith  only  ISTaomi  and 
the  ITorthern  soldier  in  this  mountain  wilderness. 
In  this  train  of  thought  Hetty  was  convinced  that  a 


184 

wedding  was  itself  a  remedy,  and  therefore  favored 
it. 

As  a  trifle,  a  very  swan's-down  feather,  will  in- 
cline the  nicely-balanced  scale,  even  though  it  be 
weighing  our  destinies,  perhaps  it  was  a  trifle  that 
gave  the  last  touch  to  this  balance. 

Phoebe  was  a  good  little  Christian,  yet  she  had 
some  heathen  fancies.  ]N"ow,  with  the  heathen  re- 
ligion is  a  very  practical  reality,  and  deity  is  a  sort 
of  universal  bureau  of  information  from  which  he 
can  get  answers  to  solve  all  doubts  that  are  an  impedi- 
ment to  action.  He  therefore  practises  divination. 
But  do  not  his  Christian  brother  and  sister  in  fact 
imitate  him  in  this  ?  Are  we  not  divining  all  the 
time  by  the  interpretation  of  signs  ? 

Naomi  had  foretold  a  death  this  year  because  in 
an  apple-tree  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  she  had 
seen  "  wid  her  own  eyes  "  nearly-ripe  apples  and 
blossoms  at  the  same  time. 

But  there  is  a  kind  of  divination  almost  universal 
with  the  quiet  country  people ;  so  common,  indeed, 
that  they  practise  it  unconsciously.  This  is  called 
by  the  learned  stichoinancy^  or  sortes  Yirgiliani. 
People  open  a  volume,  and  the  first  passage  that 
strikes  the  eye  may  be  tortured  into  an  advice,  a 
command,  or  an  answer  to  their  thoughts,  if  even 
the  remotest  application  can  be  perceived  in  the 
words  to  the  case  before  them. 

Upon  serious  occasions  the  volume  used  is  the 
Holy  Bible,  and  words  that  seem  to  have  a  pei'cepti- 
ble  relation  to  a  subject  of  moment,  if  found  in  that 


PHCEBE  SEEKS   COUNSEL.  185 

reservoir  of  wise  counsels,  are  accepted  almost  as  if 
they  really  involved  divine  advice. 

Apparently  the  reasoning  is  that  the  Bible  is  the 
Slim  of  all  wisdom  ;  that  in  it  somewhere  is  counsel 
for  man  upon  every  phase  of  life ;  and  that  when 
he  needs  this  counsel  and  goes  to  this  ready  oracle 
to  get  it,  the  volume  opens  in  his  hands  as  if  in 
answer  to  prayer  at  the  very  page  that  bears  the 
counsel  he  needs.  For  those  who  believe  all  else 
that  we  are  taught  as  religious  truth  there  is  not  in 
this  anything  ridiculously  incredible. 

But  this  magic  art  is  practised  also  with  other 
books,  and  here  even  those  who  admit  the  force  of  a 
Biblical  passage  may  be  in  doubt  unless  they  know  the 
plain  fact  that  in  country  homes  of  thoughtful  and  sin- 
cere people  every  printed  book  is  regarded  with  but 
little  less  reverence  than  the  Bible  itself,  and  is  as- 
sumed to  be  the  last  form  of  human  wisdom  upon 
the  subject  with  which  it  deals. 

]^ow,  there  was  at  Skibbevan  an  old  leather-bound 
folio  volume  of  English  poetry  brought  from  Eng- 
land in  the  colonial  days.  Hiram  had  found  it, 
scorched  and  wet,  knocking  around  at  the  fire,  and, 
recognizing  it  as  a  volume  that  the  old  doctor  read 
a  great  deal,  he  had  rescued  it  and  brought  it  over 
the  mountain  as  a  great  treasure. 

Ph«ebe,  in  the  last  phase  of  her  trouble,  resorted 
to  this  grand  old  reservoir  of  wise  thoughts  and 
noble  words. 

In  the  silence  of  her  chamber  she  said  her  prayers, 
then  confidently    opened    the   volume,  and   there 


186  ''AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING    ON." 

upon  the  fair  top  of  the  right-hand  page  was  this 
passage : 

"Open  the  temple-gates  uuto  my  love, — 
Open  them  wide  that  she  may  enter  in  ; 
And  all  the  posts  adorn  as  doth  behove, 
And  all  the  pillars  deck  with  garlands  trim, 
For  to  receive  this  saint  with  honor  due 
That  cometh  in  to  you. 
Briog  her  to  the  high  altar  that  she  may 
The  sacred  ceremonies  there  partake 
The  which  do  endless  matrimony  make, 
And  let  the  roaring  organs  loudly  play." 

And  thereupon  Phoebe's  face  fell  upon  the  page, 
whiter,  far  whiter,  than  that  time-stained  record ; 
and  she  was  like  one  dead. 

Perhaps  this  was  an  ecstasy.  All  the  saints  had 
ecstasies  in  the  old  times — a  condition  in  which  the 
soul  left  the  body,  rambled  awhile  in  other  places, 
and  came  home  again ;  whereupon  the  saint  arose 
with  the  certainty  that  the  impressions  made  upon 
the  soul  in  that  hour  were  made  by  the  touch  of 
deity.  These  things  happened  generally  upon  great 
critical  occasions ;  though  Saint  Catherine  of  Siena 
went  off  in  that  way  one  day  when  she  was  roasting 
mutton.  But  that,  also,  is  a  great  critical  occasion, 
if  the  mutton  is  good. 

However  that  may  be,  no  saint  ever  arose,  from 
her  ecstasy  with  a  firmer  conviction  that  she  was  a 
possessor  of  revealed  truth  than  Phoebe  upon  this 
occasion  ;  and  I  should  like  to  know  what  dear  little 
woman  in  the  same  circumstances  would  not  have 


PH(EBE   SEEKS   COUKSEL.  187 

perceived  in  this  grand  tranquil  commendation  to 
tlie  temple  and  to  tlie  marriage-ceremony  a  com- 
plete response  to  all  Phoebe's  thoughts,  and  the 
more  complete  because  it  was  certainly  the  response 
she  wished  to  receive. 

And  herein  let  ns  admire  the  excellence  of  the 
Chinese  religion  ;  for  the  Chinese,  also,  consult  the 
deity  in  the  way  of  divination,  and  if  the  answer  is 
not  the  one  they  hoped  for,  they  may  repeat  the 
trial  again  and  again  and  again,  and  indefinitely. 
But  if  they  once  get  the  answer  they  want,  deity 
itself  commands  that  they  shall  not  try  again. 

There  are  some  facts  in  private  life  so  particularly 
private  that  even  the  chronicler  of  our  romantic 
experiences  never  gets  much  information  about 
them ;  and  it  was  this  way  with  the  simple  ceremo- 
nies of  the  marriage  of  Phoebe  Braxton  to  Major 
Pembroke.  'No  secret  was  made  of  it  at  the  time, 
to  be  sure ;  but,  for  reasons  which  the  reader  will 
presently  hear  about,  there  subsequently  arose  an 
apparent  need  for  concealing  all  the  details  of  that 
story,  and  little  Phoebe  was  so  successful  in  im- 
pressing upon  the  minds  of  the  few  witnesses  the 
imperative  need  for  secrecy  that  years  afterwards, 
and  when  all  the  need  for  secrecy  had  passed  awa}^, 
tliey  glued  their  lips  together  at  the  very  mention 
of  the  subject — so  inevitable  is  the  effect  of  habit. 

Perhaps  my  own  curiosity  on  that  subject  has 
been  most  stirred  by  a  point  as  to  which  the  wit- 
nesses themselves  could  not  have  helped  me — by 
what  I  may  call,  I  suppose,  the  psychological  part 


188  ''AS   WE   WEXT  MARCHIiq^G   OK." 

of  the  puzzle.  How  was  it  tliat  when  Pembroke 
liad  had  so  much  of  common  knowledge,  and  even 
language  itself,  knocked  out  of  him  bj  the  hard  hits 
of  that  tough  night  on  the  mountain,  he  had  enough 
knowledo^e  of  human  relations  left  in  him  to  know 
when  to  pop  the  question,  and  to  know  even  that 
there  was  a  question  ? 

But  that  is  a  m^^stery  we  must  all  guess  at.  Per- 
haps this  is  knowledge  so  related  to  our  primary 
human  qualities  that  it  can  only  be  suppressed  by 
the  blow  that  ends  life  ;  or  if  this  knowledge  is  over- 
whelmed, perhaps  it  is  first  in  the  race  of  recovery. 

But  it  is  certain,  indeed,  that  Pembroke's  mem- 
ory of  the  past  was  unevenly  affected,  and  tliat  his 
recovery  was  consequently  uneven  ;  and  in  that  ine- 
quality the  more  strictly  natural  conceptions  of  the 
mind,  because  related  to  a  larger  range  of  ideas, 
must  have  had  an  advantage. 


CHAPTER  XYIL 

DISCOVERIES. 

There  were  blissful  days  at  Skibbevan  ;  and  then 
upon  the  still  air  of  that  earthly  paradise  canie  a 
startling  report.  There  had  reached  Winchester,  it 
was  said,  a  beautiful  ladj  from  the  North,  endeav- 
oring to  gain  tidings  of  a  lost  husband  whose  name 
was  Pembroke,  and  who  was  or  had  been  a  major 
in  the  Union  arm}^ 

Hiram  heard  this  stoiy  at  the  gatherings  of  the 
colored  people  in  the  valley ;  for  as  the  lady  had 
offered  a  reward  for  information  of  the  lost  one, 
and  as  it  was  known  that  there  had  been  a  wounded 
man  at  the  mill,  Hiram  was  asked  often  what  his 
name  was. 

Presently  news  came  that  the  lady  at  Winchester 
was  assisted  in  her  search  by  the  Willoughbys  and 
Gooches  and  other  of  Arthur's  relations. 

These  families  knew  nearly  all  the  facts  of  this 
history,  but  knew  them  vaguely.  They  had  been 
scandalized  by  the  report  of  Phoebe's  marriage; 
and  now  that  an  opportunity  came  to  get  at  all  the 
details  without  seeming  themselves  to  take  the  ini- 
tiative in  a  painful  inquiry,  they  encouraged  and 
helped. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  theory  of  our  govern- 


190  ''AS   WE   WENT   MARCHllJG   ON." 

ment  in  the  war  was  that  the  States  in  rebellion  were, 
as  tliej  had  been  from  the  first,  component  parts 
of  our  system,  only  that  the  operation  of  the  laws 
was  interrnpted  by  insurrection  ;  and  that  the  su- 
premacy of  the  law  was  to  be  restored  as  tlie  gov- 
ernment made  progress  in  putting  down  resistance. 
Accepting  this  theor3^,theGooches — Arthur's  mother 
was  of  that  family — said  that  if  the  officer  who  had 
married  Phoebe  Braxton  was  previously  married  in 
the  North,  he  should  be  punished  for  bigamy  if  the 
authorities  were  sincere  in  their  theory  about  the 
law.  On  our  side  it  was  thought  that  this  was  a 
good  opportunity  to  demonstrate  the  sincerity  of 
the  government,  and  a  regular  prosecution  was  insti- 
tuted. 

Phoebe,  as  soon  as  she  heard  all  this,  was  filled 
with  consternation  and  dismay.  As  consternation 
implies  that  things  generally  are  thrown  down  and 
cast  into  confusion,  shuffled,  jumbled,  and  left  hig- 
gledy-piggledy, that  was  the  state  of  her  whole 
mind  and  soul ;  so  that  there  was  not  a  thought  or 
fancy  upon  which  she  might  lay  hold  as  an  anchor 
of  hope  of  the  position  and  safety  of  which  she  felt 
certain.  Or  she  was  like  one  who  is  in  the  field 
when  the  tipsy  town  is  tumbled  down  by  an  earth- 
quake, and  no  woman  endeavoring  to  return  home 
can  tell  which  is  her  own  doorway  or  fireside,  or 
at  what  shrine  she  may  pray  without  desecrating  a 
sacred  service. 

And  as  the  word  dismay  implies  that  the  will, 
the  sustaining  force  of  human  actions,  is  suddenly 


DISCOVERIES.  191 

lost, — that  the  weakened  nerves  and  muscles  fall  like 
loose  ribbons  for  want  of  that  which  made  them 
active  parts  of  a  vital  unity, — so  that  word  fitly  states 
the  sudden  helplessness  which  came  over  the  little 
lady. 

But  a  sudden  sweeping  fire  from  the  hot  muzzles 
of  destiny  will  weaken  any  line  for  a  moment ;  yet 
if  it  is  a  good  line  it  rallies  again.  And  so  Phoebe 
recovered  herself,  and  she  recovered  only  to  open 
upon  herself  a  new  fire  of  reproaching ;  yet  out  of 
all  this  came,  oddly  enough,  the  salvation  of  the  mo- 
ment, for  it  indicated  a  direction  in  which  to  act, 
and  to  act  was  to  satisfy  some  human  need  of  her 
nature. 

"  She  was  to  blame.  She  had  married  Pembroke ; 
he  had  not  married  her.  He  had  been  absolutely 
unconscious  of  a  past  history;  but  she  had  known 
there  was  a  past,  and  should  have  known  all  about 
it  before  she  went  so  far,  and  then  this  trouble 
would  not  have  come  upon  him." 

For  she  did  not  once  conceive  of  this  trouble  save 
as  it  was  a  calamity  to  him.  That  it  was  the  ruin 
of  the  beautiful  hope  of  the  Braxtons  did  not  occur 
to  her. 

And  then  came  a  sweeter  thought. 

"Well,  at  least  her  Pembroke  was  a  new  man. 
At  least  in  his  soul,  in  his  mind,  there  was  no 
other  wife.  It  was  hers,  and  hers  alone  ;  but  alas  ! 
the  strange  cruelty  of  destiny,  that  the  body  which 
was  also  the  property  of  the  other  Pembroke  who 
had  been  married  in  Maine  should  be  responsible 


192  **  AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

to  justice  for  acts  done  in  a  new-life !  But  Low 
would  tlie  justice  of  that  far-away  past  life  know 
what  had  been  done  in  this  new,  remote,  isolated  ex- 
istence ?  Tlien  a  thought  flashed  through  her  mind 
that  justice  must  liave  evidence  ;  and  she  understood 
what  Hiram  had  said  about  "  looking  for  evidence," 
and  she  asked  herself  w^hat  evidence  there  was  of 
Pembroke's  marriage  with  her. 

'•There  is  the  record  at  the  little  church." 

Another  thought  which  greatly  troubled  Phoebe 
was  that  it  might  not  be  intended  really  to  arrest 
the  Major.  She  knew  the  names  of  the  men  who  had 
been  sent  on  this  errand  as  infamous  for  some  rela- 
tion to  every  act  of  lawlessness  and  brigandage  ever 
done  in  the  country,  and  she  no  sooner  heard  these 
names  than  the  fancy  flashed  across  her  thought  that 
the  real  purpose  was  to  pretend  to  arrest  the  Major, 
to  provoke  liim  to  resistance,  and  to  kill  him  while 
resisting  the  ofiicers. 

That,  she  believed,  would  please  the  Willoughbj's. 

Phoebe  nevertheless  thought  that,  as  there  might 
be  a  real  intention  to  try  the  Major,  lier  first  duty 
was  to  him,  and  her  first  act  should  be  to  make  it 
difiicult  to  convict  him  if  they  caught  him  ;  though 
she  intended  they  should  not  catch  him  if  she  could 
help  it. 

Now,  the  most  certain  evidence  of  the  marriage 
was  the  record  kept  in  the  little  church.  By  de- 
stroying that  she  would  destroy,  it  is  true,  the  i-ecord 
that  her  own  side  of  her  relation  to  the  Major  was 
honorable,  but  she  would  destroy  what  might  prove 


DISCOVERIES.  193 

liini  guilty  of  a  crime.  If  it  did  not  appear  before 
the  judges  at  Warren  ton  or  Winchefiter  or  else- 
where tliat  she  was  married  to  the  Major,  it  would 
appear  that  she  had  lived  in  illicit  relations  with  him. 
She  was  ready  for  whatever  consequences  might 
come  to  her  if  she  could  save  him. 

And  with  all  this  thought  and  worry  and  wonder, 
went  side  by  side,  and  playing  in  and  out  and  aronnd, 
like  airs  upon  other  instruments  in  an  orchestra,  a 
fear  that  the  trial  and  what  might  come  of  it  was 
not  the  worst  before  her. 

If  there  was  a  trial,  there  would  at  least  be  justice, 
and  the  Major's  condition  would  be  taken  into  ac- 
count. She  never  imagined  that  ordinary  courts 
would  raise  the  eyebrows  of  incredulity  over  such  a 
story.  She  could  not  comprehend  that  any  would 
doubt  what  she  knew  so  well. 

But  she  feared  what  might  happen  if  Pembroke, 
brought  into  the  presence  of  this  lady  from  the 
l^orth,  should  remember  and  know  her.  How  cold 
had  been  the  life  between  them  Phoebe  did  not 
know.  They  had  loved  one  another,  she  assumed  ; 
and  if  an  earlier  claim  to  Pembroke's  love  was  good 
now,  what  would  become  of  her  ? 

At  midnight  two  women  left  the  old  mill  at  Skib- 
bevan.     One  was  Phoebe,  the  other  Agate. 

It  was  not,  apparently,  a  perilous  trip  from  the  old 
mill  to  the  little  chapel.  JSTo  wild  beasts  infested 
that  region,  nor  were  there  any  demons  or  witches 
of  romance  there.  Yet  there  was  more  danger  in 
the  journey  than  eitlier  of  these  women  thought,  for 
13 


194  ''AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING    ON." 

there  were  armies  in  tlie  valley,  and  the  mountain 
was  a  place  of  refuge  for  scores  of  armed  ragamuf- 
fins, half  soldiers  and  half  highwaymen. 

But  they  went  safely  through  all  that.  As  in  a 
crowd  if  you  see  one  you  know  and  fix  your  gaze 
upon  him  he  is  well-nigh  sure  to  see  you,  while  if 
you  turn  your  eyes  away  you  are  very  apt  to  pass 
unseen,  so  it  almost  appeared  that  their  very  un- 
consciousness of  the  proximity  of  enemies  kept  the 
enemies  unconscious  of  them. 

Phoebe  had  not  all  the  way  a  thought  of  danger. 
Her  mind  was  not  sufficiently  free  for  such  a  mere 
personal  indulgence  as  the  sense  of  fear.  She  was 
too  intent  upon  the  purpose  before  her  to  consider 
the  possible  accidents  of  the  way.  But  Agate,  who 
had  not  the  inspiration  of  such  a  purjDOse,  and  had 
all  the  superstitious  nature  of  her  race,  saw  ghosts 
and  devils  at  every  step. 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  delicate  lady  led  the 
way  without  a  thought  of  present  evil,  while  there 
went  trembling  behind  her  the  strong  slave,  who  in 
the  presence  of  any  real  enemy  would  have  fought 
for  her  comrade  with  the  courage  and  tenacity  of  a 
she-lion. 

They  reached  the  church,  and  captured  the  heavy 
volume  they  sought ;  and  the  next  consideration  was 
what  should  be  done  with  it.  One  might  suppose 
that  this  doubt  had  been  determined  by  the  way ; 
but  in  truth  women  seldom  undertake  an  enterprise 
with  their  minds  made  up  as  to  all  the  points  ;  and 
though  Phoebe  had  in  her  mind  the  general  purpose 


DISCOVERIES.  195 

to  put  this  book  beyond  the  possibility  of  use  as 
evidence,  she  had  not  made  up  her  mind  liow  to  de- 
stroy it,  nor  tliought  how  its  destruction  could  be 
accomplished. 

ISTow,  this  volume  contained  tlie  only  evidence 
that  her  relations  to  Pembroke  were  those  of  honest 
matrimony,  so  far  as  she  knew,  and  this  would  have 
made  it  sacred  in  most  women's  eyes;  but  it  did 
not  in  hers,  for  was  it  not  a  document  that  misrht 
prove  Pembroke  guilty  of  a  crime  ? 

The  thought,  therefore,  that  this  was  the  only 
record  of  her  marriage  did  not  save  the  volume  ;  but 
the  thought  that  did  save  it  was  that  it  contained 
the  record  of  the  marriages  of  many  other  women, 
and  that  she  had  no  right  to  imperil  the  welfare  of 
others  when  this  was  not  absolutely  necessary  to 
save  her  own. 

So  between  them  they  carried  the  heavy  volume 
away  and  hid  it  in  a  secure  crevice  in  a  rocky  recess 
of  the  mountain. 

Then  they  hurried  away  homeward,  this  time 
with  the  speed  of  fear;  for  now  Phoebe  was  conscious 
of  a  guilty  act. 

That  night  there  was  something  in  the  air  that 
made  it  difficult  for  any  one  at  Skibbevan  to  be  at 
rest.  How  it  is  that  the  state  of  one  mind  or 
soul  can  without  any  apparent  personal  communi- 
cation act  upon  another  mind  or  soul  the  philoso- 
phers do  not  know ;  but  the  fact  is  one  of  experi- 
ence, and  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  more  difficult 
than  a  score  of  other  facts.     Our  very  diseases  have 


196 

sucli  an  effect  upon  the  atmospliere  near  ns  that 
they  who  breathe  the  same  air  get  the  same  mala- 
dies ;  and  a  storm  in  one  soul,  though  concealed,  may 
so  affect  the  atmosphere  as  to  convey  that  mood  to 
another  soul  sympathetically  related  to  this  one. 

Pembroke  sat  in  the  little  piazza  in  the  drowsy 
air  of  the  night  filled  with  the  rhythmical  noises  of 
the  swinging  vines  and  swinging  trees;  sat  and 
waited  for  Phoebe,  w^ho,  busy,  as  he  supposed,  at 
some  other  part  of  the  old  home,  would  come  to  him 
soon.  She  seemed  to  him  to  be  away  longer  than 
usual ;  but  this  did  not  strike  him  as  strange,  did 
not  ruffle  the  delightful  tranquillity  of  the  patience 
with  which  he  waited.  And  as  he  so  waited,  soothed 
by  all  the  voices  of  the  night,  the  honej^-heavy  dew 
of  slumber  settled  upon  his  senses. 

Suddenly  he  started  from  this  sleep,  and  whether 
he  had  slept  five  minutes  or  as  many  hours  he  could 
not  tell;  but  he  was  wide  awake,  and  filled  with  a 
definite  consciousness  that  there  was  something 
wrong  on  foot.  But  what  was  it?  Where  was 
Phoebe  ?     It  must  relate  to  her. 

He  went  about  and  could  not  find  Phoebe. 
Through  the  various  parts  of  the  old  place  all  was 
still ;  apparently  everybody  slept.  But  Phoebe  was 
gone.  Gone  whither  ?  Gone  for  what  purpose  ? 
Gone  for  how  long  ? 

He  wandered  in  and  out  of  the  different  rooms 
with  these  thoughts  coming  and  going  in  his  mind, 
and  his  trouble  grew  almost  to  a  panic. 

And  then  the  habit  of  trusting  her  asserted  itself. 


DISCOVERIES.  197 

How  had  she  been  safe  in  all  these  days  and  nights,  to 
be  in  danger  now  merely  because  she  was  out  of  his 
sio:ht  ?  This  did  not  altosrether  calm  him,  but  it 
lightened  the  strain  and  kept  him  tranquil  for  a 
time ;  and  then  as  the  fever  of  fear  began  to  come 
again,  he  heard  the  light  step  of  Phoebe  on  the  piaz- 
za, and  in  a  second  they  were  face  to  face. 

He  saw  her  trouble  as  she  saw  his. 

And  then  she  told  him  in  a  few  swift  words 
where  she  had  been  and  what  she  had  done. 

But  why  had  she  done  that  ?  Why  was  it  neces- 
sary ? 

Phoebe  felt  like  one  who  stands  beside  an  abyss 
into  which  it  is  his  duty  to  plunge,  as  she  thought 
in  one  short  second  how  mucli  there  was  that  lie  did 
not  know,  and  how  imperative  it  was  that  all 
should  be  told  this  very  moment. 

And  then  she  began  to  tell  him.  But  he  did  not 
understand ;  and  she  had  to  stop  and  reflect  where 
she  should  begin  her  story,  so  that  it  would  connect 
with  the  point  at  which  his  new  mental  life  began. 

"  Skibbevan  was  not  your  first  home,"  she  said, 
"and  we  were  not  your  first  friends." 

He  only  looked  placidly  at  her  and  waited  for  her 
to  go  on,  as  if  perhaps  such  a  thought  had  already 
occurred  to  him  and  he  had  no  curiosity  in  regard 
to  it. 

"  Before  that  you  were  hurt." 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  head  unconsciously. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  your  head ;  and  we  thought 
for  many  months  that  you  would  die.  But  in  your 


198 

recovery  you  did  not  regain  the  memory  of  your 
past  life.  We  never  liked  to  say  much  about  it ; 
we  did  not  know  what  effect  it  might  have.  But 
now  it  is  necessary  to  tell  it." 

"  Necessary  for  w^hat  reason  ?"  he  said. 

"  Because  you  have  to  go  awa}^" 

"  Away  from  here  !"  he  said ;  "  from  you  !  Im- 
possible !  I  cannot  do  it.  I  cannot  comprehend 
that  there  can  be  any  reason  for  it." 

'*  But  there  is.  Men  have  come  from  the  North 
to  arrest  you.  They  say  that  when  we  were  mar- 
ried you  committed  a  crime,  because  you  had  an- 
other wife." 

"  Another  wife  !"  he  said. 

"Yes;  in  the  beforetime." 

"  Another  wife— in  the  beforetime;"  and  he  re- 
peated these  words  mechanically  over  and  over  again, 
and  then  sat  silently  with  a  strange  gaze  in  his  eyes, 
as  if  some  recovered  intimations  of  an  intellectual 
pathway  into  the  past  had  started  his  will  upon  the 
strange  endeavor  to  find  in  his  brain  points  of  con- 
nection by  which  to  aid  his  exploration. 

"  They  call  her,"  said  Phoebe,  with  hesitation — 
"  they  call  her  Lsetitia." 

He  started  to  his  feet  as  if  that  word  had  touched 
the  key  of  some  magnetic  battery  connected  with 
explosive  substances  in  the  cells  of  his  brain,  and 
as  if  that  explosion  had  blown  away  the  curtain  that 
hid  the  past. 

Phoebe  half  rose  as  he  started  away,  and  then, 
unable  to  regain  her  feet,  sank  lower,  and  her  head 


DISCOVERIES.  199 

sank  almost  to  lier  knees,  and  slie  rested  there  in 
abject  misery,  for  she  did  not  know  that  tlie  im- 
pulse which  that  word  had  stirred  was  one  of  re- 
pulsion— was  an  act  of  instinctive  aversion  to  all 
with  which  that  name  was  associated  ;  and  she  list- 
ened to  her  fears,  and  thought  it  was  a  movement 
away  from  her. 

He  strode  up  and  down  the  little  room  with  an 
energy  strange  to  him  then;  and  then  retui-ning, 
gathered  her  up  in  his  strong  arms,  folded  her  ten- 
derly to  his  bosom,  and  said  softly  : 

'' Phoebe,  my  love,  my  only  darling!"  And  then 
they  wept  together,  and  he  said,  '-How  was  I  hurt? 
How  did  I  come  here?" 

"You  were  hurt  in  a  battle.  You  came  as  a 
soldier." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,"  he  said.  "Where  is  the  regi- 
ment— and  old  Dave  ?  My  God !  how  long  has  it 
been  ?" 

"  You  were  left  for  dead  on  the  field  of  battle. 
I  saved  you — Papa  and  Aunt  Hetty,  and  Agate 
and  I.  You  were  reported  dead.  But  she  has  de- 
nied it,  and  has  done  this." 

Then  there  was  an  interval  of  tears  and  caresses, 
and  she  said  : 

"  Pretended  officers  have  left  Winchester  to  cap- 
ture you.  They  are  not  officers,  the}^  are  some  of 
the  mountain  ruffians,  and  if  they  find  you  here 
they  will  murder  you.  You  must  leave  before  it 
is  light." 

"  Phoebe,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  altogether  under- 


200 

stand  it ;  but  you,  who  do,  must  guide  mo  as  to 
what  is  best  for  your  welfare  and  for  my  honor." 

^'  Ko  evil  menaces  me,"  she  said. 

"Wliy,  then,"  he  said,  ''  the  regiment — " 

"Here,"  she  said,  "is  the  regiment." 

And  with  a  step  away  she  opened  the  door  of  a 
closet  nearly  hidden  in  the. wall,  and  showed  his 
uniform,  brushed  and  carefully  hung  there  with  the 
scrupulous  nicety  with  which  a  little  girl  would  put 
up  her  first  Sunday  bonnet. 

At  the  sight  of  the  blue  cloth,  the  buttons,  and, 
above  all,  at  tlie  sight  of  the  sabre  hanging  by  the 
belt  beside  the  coat,  he  w\as  excited  so  that  he 
trembled  for  a  moment  and  leaned  upon  Phoebe; 
who  in  her  turn  was  frightened,  and  thought  de- 
spite the  long  delay  all  this  had  at  last  been  made 
known  too  soon — that  his  brain  was  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently recovered  to  stand  the  shock  of  these  dis- 
closures. 

"It  is  too  much  to  endure,"  she  said.  "It  was 
wrong  to  tell  you  yet." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  it  was  right.  I  under- 
stand it  now." 

Thereupon  he  reached  for  the  sabre,  and  taking 
it  down  drew  it  from  the  scabbard,  and  grasped  the 
hilt  firmly  as  if  to  balance  the  weight  of  the  blade 
against  the  strength  of  his  wrist ;  and  then,  perhaps 
because  some  electrical  influence  went  from  that  bit 
of  steel  into  the  man,  his  nerves  grew  steady,  he 
was  calm,  and  in  that  instant  appeared  to  recover 
a  full  consciousness  of  all  those  facts  of  his  life  to 


DISCOVEIUES.  201 

wliicli  the  weapon  was  related.  It  was  as  if  it 
needed  that  weight  in  his  hand  to  make  liim  him- 
self once  more. 

"  Yes,  Phoebe,"  he  said,  "  yon  are  right.  I  must 
go  away." 

And  then  Phcebe,  who  had  been  sustained  by  the 
thought  of  the  duty  to  be  done,  and  now  saw  only 
the  loss  before  her,  went  down  upon  her  knees  and 
prayed ;  and  Pembroke  knelt  speechlessly  beside  her, 
only  putting  his  hand  upon  her  head  as  if  with  the 
wish  that  he  might  be  included  in  the  benefit  of 
those  sweet  prayers. 


CHAPTER  XYIII. 

PEMBROKE    ON    HIS    WAY   TO   THE   AKMY. 

Before  dajliglit  Skibbevan  was  as  mucli  aban- 
doned as  any  of  the  homes  one  saw  in  Virginia  in 
those  days  when  nanght  was  left  but  two  melancholy 
chimneys — the  timber  parts  burned  away,  and  only 
the  masonry  remaining  in  monumental  remem- 
brance of  what  had  been.  Skibbevan  was  left  in- 
tact ;  not  a  scrap  of  furniture  displaced.  But  if  the 
home  had  been  burned  away,  the  spot  could  scarcely 
have  looked  more  desolate  than  the  sun  saw  it  that 
day  when  late  in  the  forenoon  lie  had  climbed  high 
enough  to  peep  over  the  crest  of  the  mountains  at 
that  scene  of  so  much  recent  bliss.  But  the  sun  has 
observed  so  much  like  that  since  he  has  been  upon 
his  travels  that  he  has  no  longer  any  feeling  for  the 
pathos  of  it. 

Phoebe  and  Aunt  Hetty,  !N"aomi  and  Agate, 
were  to  be  immediately  hidden  at  a  secure  place  in 
the  hills,  and  Hiram  was  to  accompany  the  Major 
for  a  way  till  he  should  put  him  upon  a  sure  path 
up  the  valley,  that  he  might  reach  the  army.  Then 
Hiram  was  to  return,  guide  the  women  to  a  yet 
deeper  recess  of  the  mountains,  and,  by  keeping  up 
a  regular  communication  with  Skibbevan,  minister 
to  their  daily  wants.    His  courage  and  sagacity  were 


PEMBROKE   ON   HIS   WAY   TO   THE   ARMY.        203 

accepted  as  sure  guarantees  that  no  one  would  cap- 
ture Lim  ;  or  if  they  did,  that  lie  would  not  be  a  use- 
ful witness. 

Tliere  was  a  heart-breaking  farewell  between 
Phoebe  and  the  Major  at  the  place  where  the  wom- 
en were  to  leave  the  route, — in  which,  however,  they 
restrained  themselves  because  of  the  presence  of 
the  others ;  and  then  the  two  groups  started  away 
rapidly  upon  their  different  journeys;  PhcBbe  for- 
getting, in  her  anxiety  that  he  should  escape  this 
immediate  peril,  the  many  other  perils  that  were  be- 
fore him;  and  he  somewhat  distracted  from  this 
present  loss  by  the  feeling  of  an  imperative  sense 
of  his  duty  elsewhere. 

Hiram  and  the  Major  tramped  resolutely  onward 
all  the  forenoon,  seeing  not  a  soul,  and  at  midday 
lunched  and  rested. 

Hiram  improved  this  occasion  to  show  off  a  little 
before  the  Major,  with  a  kind  of  natural  vanity  flow- 
ing from  some  military  impulses  in  his  nature,  his 
dexterity  with  the  remarkable  weapon  he  carried, 
which  had  excited  in  the  Major  only  a  speechless 
curiosity. 

This  weapon  was  Hiram's  own  contrivance,  and 
was  very  nearly  a  country  blacksmith's  reproduction 
of  an  ancient  bill.  Upon  the  smaller  extremity  of 
a  staff  made  from  an  ash  sapling  was  fastened  the 
blade  of  one  of  those  short  stiff  scythes  called  brush- 
hooks,  and  this  blade  was  ground  to  a  point  in  such 
a  way  as  to  remove  entirely  the  forward  bend  in  the 
blade. 


204 

ITow,  the  staff  was  about  twelve  feet  long,  and  of 
such  a  size  in  the  butt  that  it  could  have  been  han- 
dled only  with  exertion  by  anybody  without  the  giant 
shoulders,  arms,  and  hands  of  Hiram — to  whom,  in- 
deed, it  seemed  as  light  as  a  willow  switch. 

With  this  weapon,  and  rushing  one  or  two  steps, 
he  could  strike,  with  deadly  aim  every  time,  his  own 
hat  suspended  in  the  branches  at  a  point  twenty -five 
feet  from  where  he  stood.  • 

"  Could  you  strike  a  man  that  way  ?"  said  the 
Major. 

"  Sure  enough,  Massa  Major,  I  can  do  dat,"  he 
said;  "and  if  dese  fellows  gives  half  a  chance,  I 
show  yer.  Dey  talk  about  ole  Virginny ;  and  I'm  as 
good  ole  Yirginny  as  any  of  'em." 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  past  noon  when  they 
started  forward  again,  striking  immediately  and 
without  the  need  of  agreement  in  words  into  the 
steady  long  stride  of  men  who  feel  that  the  dis- 
tance before  them  bears  an  unsatisfactory  relation 
to  the  time  in  which  they  wish  to  put  it  behind 
them.  As  neither  of  them  had  that  merry  heart 
which  is  said  to  go  all  the  day, — and  one  of  them 
certainly  had  the  sad  heart  which,  on  the  same  au- 
thority, "  tires  in  a  mile,  O  " — this  want  and  this 
weight  were  equally  overcome  by  the  resolute 
spirit  that  neither  was  without. 

Suddenly  Hiram,  who  was  a  few  paces  ahead,  as 
showing  the  way,  stopped  short,  bolt  upright  in  the 
road,  and  said : 

"What's  dat,  Major?" 


PEMBROKE  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  THE   ARMY.       205 

''  Wliat  ?"  said  Pembroke. 

^'  Don't  yei-  hear  a  noise  ?" 

Pembroke  listened,  but  heard  no  sound  save  the 
little  movement  of  the  rustling  leaves;  but  even 
that  noise  was  never  fainter  than  now,  for  there  was 
not  breeze  enough  to  stir  the  heavy  tree-tops,  and 
there  were  no  lower  branches  here,  as  there  seldom 
are  in  the  dense  forest.  But  as  their  senses  were 
thus  kept  on  the  alert  for  a  minute,  there  came  upon 
the  still  air  a  faint  harsh  noise,  more  like  the  pro- 
test of  a  rusty  hinge  than  like  any  sound  peculiar 
to  the  wild  hillside. 

"  Perhaps  some  rusty  well-wheel  in  the  valley," 
said  the  Major. 

"Major,"  said  Hiram,  with  the  confidence  of  su- 
perior knowledge,  "  dere  ain't  no  well-wheel  for  ten 
miles.  People  on  de  mountain  gets  water  out  of 
de  branches ;  and  down  in  de  valley  dey  draws  wid 
a  well-sweep.  Dat's  de  rusty  wheel  of  some  ole 
nigger's  mule-cart ;  but  what  ole  nigger's  comin' 
on  de  mountain  wid  a  mule-cart  dese  times  ?  Dat's 
what  Pm  wonderin'  at." 

Now,  Hiram's  imagined  familiarity  with  the  sound 
he  heard  caused  it  to  excite  his  wonder  rather  than 
his  fear,  otherwise  his  half-Indian  instincts  would 
have  caused  him  to  hide  at  once ;  and  had  he  done 
so,  they  would  have  viewed  from  some  safe  lookout 
near  by  what  they  presently  saw,  but  would  have 
missed  the  notable  experiences  of  that  day. 

For  scarcely  had  Hiram  delivered  his  opinion  on 
the  noise  than  there  came  in  sight  around  a  sharp 


206  '^AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON. 

turn  in  the  road,  two  hundred  yards  away,  a  spec- 
tacle strange  to  Pembroke,  but  apparently  not  alto- 
gether strange,  though  startling,  to  Hiram. 

"  Dat's  a  nigger  funeral,"  he  said  ;  "  but  what 
nigger  is  it  ?     Didn't  hear  any  one  was  dead." 

There  was  a  rickety  old  open  wagon  drawn  by  a 
mule,  driven  by  a  colored  woman  closely  veiled, 
who  sat  up  at  the  front  of  the  wagon,  while  behind 
her  in  the  wagon  was  what  might  well  be  a  coffin 
covered  with  a  black  cloth,  and  in  the  road  walked, 
in  couples,  following  the  wagon,  four  colored 
women  closely  veiled. 

"  Lors  a  massy !"  said  Hiram,  "  what  nigger  can 
dis  be  ?  And  every  one  of  dem  culled  women's  six 
foot  high ;  and  where  did  dey  borry  so  many  veils 
dese  times  ?  Come  on.  Major."  And  Hiram,  with 
a  sudden  air  of  resolution  which  told  the  Major  that 
it  was  a  moment  in  which  to  be  on  his  guard,  started 
ahead,  and  they  walked  side  by  side  swiftly  toward 
the  advancing  cortege,  each  prepared  for  a  ready 
use  of  weapons.  ISTow,  this  advance  was  more  fortu- 
nate than  Hiram  knew,  for  it  gave  to  the  funeral 
party  the  impression  that  others  were  on  the  road 
behind  Hiram  and  the  Major ;  and  more  surprised 
than  our  friends  were,  and  not  knowing  what  to 
expect,  these  five  uncommonly  tall  colored  women 
kept  steadily  on  their  way. 

"  How  dey  do  step  out !"  muttered  Hiram  as  they 
came  near ;  and  indeed  as  the  gait  of  our  acquaint- 
ances was  a  good  one,  and  the  pace  of  the  others 
not  at  all  that  of  women  who  are  lingering  on  their 


PEMBROKE   ON   HIS   WAY   TO   THE   ARMY.       207 

last  journej  with  a  friend,  the  two  parties  passed 
without  a  word  exchanged,  within  two  or  three 
minutes  of  the  time  they  first  caught  sight  of  each 
other. 

"Dey  ain't  neighborly  niggers,"  said  Hiram. 
"JSTot  a  word,  eh?  Dat's  mighty  queer.  Dar's 
some  shecoonery  in  dis." 

ISTow,  Hiram's  state  of  mind  was  a  very  odd  one. 
Like  all  men  of  his  race,  his  perceptions  were  very 
acute,  and  he  thus  discovered  at  the  first  glimpse, — 
"  with  half  an  eye,"  as  the  people  say, — that  there 
was  something  wrong  about  that  funeral.  Those 
women  were  all  too  tall ;  they  strode  forward  with 
a  free  use  of  their  feet  not  characteristic  of  persons 
used  to  wearing  petticoats.  They  were  too  much 
veiled,  and  they  were  not  sociable  enough.  Besides, 
if  any  colored  person  was  dead  in  all  that  region, 
would  he  not  have  heard  of  it  ?  Yet,  though  he 
discerned  readily,  he  reasoned  slowly,  and  did  not 
reach  over-hastily  the  thought  that  perhaps  it  was 
not  a  funeral,  nor  yet  the  inquiry,  if  it  was  not  a 
funeral,  what  was  it  ? 

His  instincts  were  right,  however,  though  his  rea- 
son was  slow ;  for  the  moment  that  little  turn  in 
the  road  put  them  out  of  sight  of  the  others,  making 
a  sudden  sign  to  the  Major,  he  started  on  a  hard 
run,  and  tlie  Major  followed.  At  this  place  the 
road  wound  a  great  deal  on  account  of  the  irregu- 
larities of  the  mountain-side  and  the  need  of 
skirting  many  steep,  rocky  places  ;  consequently  the 
view  up  or  down  the  road  was  not  open  for  any 


208 

distance,  and  Hiram,  understanding  that  tlie  others, 
if  they  returned,  mnst  he  nearly  npon  their  heels 
hefore  they  could  see  them,  thus  ohtained  five  or 
six  minutes'  grace  in  which  to  choose  an  ambush. 

He  had  apparently  fixed  upon  the  place  as  he 
ran ;  for,  ^oming  to  a  point  at  which  a  smaller  road 
cut  off  from  that  they  were  on  and  descended  the 
mountain,  he  ran  forward  beyond  a  heavy  mass  of 
boulders  that  stood  in  the  angle  of  these  two  roads, 
and,  dashing  behind  the  boulders,  made  liis  way  by 
a  rough  crevice  back  to  the  face  of  the  mass,  where, 
in  an  open  space  covered  from  the  front  by  a  dense 
gro^vth  of  vines  and  brushwood,  they  could,  unseen 
and  unheard,  looking  down  upon  the  road,  both  see 
and  hear. 

By  this  time,  Pembroke,  reasoning  that  if 
those  they  had  just  passed  were  not  what  they 
seemed, — if  they  were  persons  in  disguise, — they 
were  probably  on  some  evil  errand,  and  might  be 
those  enemies  who  were  reported  on  the  way  to 
capture  him,  became  uneasy  lest  they  should  not 
return ;  for  if  they  went  on,  what  danger  might 
there  not  be  for  Phoebe  ? 

"Are  these  the  fellows  from  Winchester?"  he 
said  to  Hiram. 

'*  Dat's  it,  suah.  Major ;  dat's  it,  suah.  Dat  mus' 
be  it:  never  reckoned  dat.  Dese  am  de  fellows  from 
Winchester.  Fixed  demselves  up  like  culled  wumen 
so  de  Linkum  sojers  wouldn't  stop  'em." 

"What  will  they  do  now?" 

"  Dey'U  stop  in  de  road  dere,  and  reckon  dis  ting 


PEMBROKE  OX  HIS  WAY  TO  THE   AEMY.       209 

a  little,  and  den  dey'll  come  for  ns,  becanse  you're 
de  man  dej  want.  But  dej'll  come  mighty  sliy, 
and  somebody'll  be  all  mommicked  up  'fore  niglit. 
Are  you  all  ready  V* 

The  Major  had  his  sabre-hilt  near  his  hand,  and 
had  his  revolver  in  his  belt ;  but  the  cartridges  were 
now  so  old  that  he  did  not  know  whether  he  could 
count  upon  them. 

He  was  as  ready,  however,  as  it  was  possible  to 
be  in  the  circumstances,  and  they  waited  in  silence. 

Waiting  in  that  way  for  the  enemy  to  come — 
waiting  in  a  reasonably  good  ambush  for  an  inevi- 
table conflict  with  an  overwhelming  number,  in 
which  it  must  depend  upon  your  skill  to  make  two 
men  equal  to  five — is  a  thing  that  men  get  used  to 
in  war ;  but  it  makes  untried  men  impatient,  and 
stirs  the  old  fellows  to  be  sure  not  to  act  precipitately, 
yet  not  to  let  the  right  moment  go  by. 

Hiram  had  been  right  as  to  what  the  others  would 
do ;  for  in  a  few  minutes  one  figure,  one  tall  fellow 
dressed  in  butternut  cloth — this  time  without  petti- 
coats or  veil,  and  with  a  rifle  ready  before  him — ap- 
peared in  the  road  at  the  first  turn  in  the  direction 
from  which  our  friends  had  come.  Seeing  the  way 
clear  before  him,  he  made  a  sign  to  those  behind 
him,  and  hurried  forward  toward  the  next  turn. 

^•If  dey  don't  move  faster  dan  dat,  we  could  'a' 
run  clean  away  from  dem,  Major,"  said  Hiram. 

^•'But  it  is  better  this  way,"  said  the  Major. 
"  They  might  return  and  pursue  the  women." 

This  was  hardly  said  before  the  advance  man  was 
14 


210  "AS   WE   WEKT   MARCHIKG   ON." 

in  tlie  road  beside  the  Major  and  Hiram  ;  and  as  lie 
could  see  down  botli  wa3^s  and  did  not  know  which 
road  to  take,  he  waited  for  the  others.  If  the  Major 
had  been  sure  of  his  cartridges,  he  would  have  closed 
the  career  of  this  fellow  now,  and  thus  have  had 
one  fewer  to  deal  with ;  but  the  fall  of  a  hammer 
tliat  did  not  explode  the  cartridge  would  not  hurt 
the  foe,  and  would  betray  the  hidden  two,  and  they 
would  have  been  presently  shot  to  death  in  the 
hole  in  which  they  lay. 

To  fire  upon  him  was  therefore  a  risk  not  to  be 
taken,  and  the  Major  held  his  hand. 

Presently  the  others  joined  the  man  who  had 
already  arrived,  and  the  five — all  of  the  same  sort, 
rough  customers  in  butternut,  such  as  always  live 
upon  the  skirts  of  an  army,  and  are  fonder  of  all 
things  else  pertaining  to  strife  than  the  smell  of 
gunpowder — held  a  council  of  war  in  tlie  road. 

"Reckon  we've  lost  'em,"  said  one. 

"  How  could  we  lose  'em  ?"  said  another. 

"  We  uns  has  been  durn  foolish  about  this,"  said 
a  third.  "  If  we'd  followed  their  tracks  in  the  road 
from  where  they  started  to  run,  we'd  'a'  had  some- 
thin'  to  lead  us  to  jist  where  they're  at." 

"Well,  now,  Jim,"  said  the  first  fellow  in  butter- 
nut, "nobody  can't  please  you.  Soon  as  I  seen  by 
the  tracks  there  that  they'd  started  to  run,  I  sez  to 
myself, '  If  we  stop  to  look  for  tracks,  they'll  get  to 
the  Yankee  army  before  we  can  ketch  'em; '  and  that's 
the  reason  I  went  fast.  Can't  follow  no  tracks  and 
run,  too." 


PEMBROKE   ON   HIS   WAY   TO   THE   ARMY.       211 

Hereupon  one  who  had  been  down  the  by-road 
returned,  and  reported  that  he  could  not  find  any 
traces  of  footsteps  that  way. 

Fortunately  for  our  friends  in  the  crevices  of  the 
boulders,  these  five  had  npon  their  advance  halted 
at  this  very  spot,  and  between  the  mule  and  the 
wasron  and  their  own  shufiline:  about  there  was  such 
a  confusion  of  traces  that  they  did  not  even  endeavor 
to  follow  any  footprint  up  the  main  road,  but,  con- 
cluding hastily  that,  as  there  were  no  traces  the  other 
way,  they  must  have  gone  by  the  wagon-road,  deter- 
mined to  push  rapidly  forward  in  that  direction. 

"  Well,  as  the  little  road  comes  into  the  wagon- 
road  again  a  ways  ahead,"  said  the  leader,  "  we 
can  cover  more  ground  by  some  going  each 
way." 

"Bnthe's  a  tough-looking  fellow,"  said  the  one 
called  Jim ;  "  not  much  sick  man  about  him ;  and 
that  Hiram  Braxton  ain't  a  baby  ;  and  dividing  our 
forces  ain't  a  good  plan  with  sich  as  them." 

"Well,  we  won't  be  far  away,"  said  the  first, 
"  and  a  shot  in  either  road  could  fetch  up  the  oth- 
ers." 

"  Jist  as  yer  like,"  was  the  answer. 

So  two  went  one  way  and  three  the  other.  And 
Jim,  who  went  with  the  three,  called  out  as  parting 
advice : 

"  Kill  him  if  yer  see  him.  There  ain't  no  other 
chance." 

And  then  the  two  lying  perdu  heard  them  dispute, 
and,  though  they  could  not  see  clearly  all  the  time. 


212  "AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

got  glimpses  occasionally  which  assured  them  of  a 
clear  road  for  the  moment. 

'Now,  Hiram,  whose  duty  was  to  get  the  Major 
safely  on  his  way,  was  for  waiting  till  these  fellows 
were  well  advanced,  and  for  then  following  for  a 
certain  distance  the  road  taken  by  the  two  and  leav- 
ing it  by  a  way  he  knew,  and  getting  into  the  wet 
region  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  But  the  Major, 
thinking  all  the  time  of  Phoebe  and  of  what  these 
fellows  might  do  if  disappointed,  did  not  want  to  dis- 
appoint them  entirely. 

"We  have  got  the  advantage,"  he  said,  "in 
knowing  their  plan,  and  in  knowing  that  they  are 
divided ;  and  if  we  could  get  at  the  two  before  they 
reach  the  others,  we  could  give  a  good  account  of 
ourselves." 

"  Dat  can  be  done.  Major,"  said  Hiram,  "  if  must 
be." 

"  How  ?"  said  the  Major. 

"Dis  yeah  path  dat  dem  two  fellows  went  is 
mighty  crooked ;  winds  away  mile  and  a  half,  and 
comes  back  to  de  boulders  'bout  kalf  a  mile  from 
here.  It's  mighty  rough,  but  we  can  get  dar  'fore 
dey  do." 

"Forward,  then,"  said  the  Major;  "that's  our 
chance." 

So  they  scrambled  out  of  the  lucky  refuge  to 
which  they  had  taken,  and  jumped  and  fell  and 
climbed  and  slid  onward  toward  Hiram's  strategic 

o 

point.  It  was  a  mighty  rough  way,  as  Hiram  had 
said,  and  the  Major  went  down  so  badly  two  or 


PEMBROKE   ON   HIS  WAY  TO  THE   ARMY.        213 

three  times  that  Hiram  thought  he  had  a  man  with 
a  broken  leg  on  his  hands ;  but  they  reached  the 
place,  and  in  good  time,  as  it  proved. 

Pembroke  planned  an  ambush  upon  the  theory 
that  the  two  foes  coming  with  a  little  care,  but  not 
with  a  great  deal,  and  much  as  he  had  seen  them 
all  come  up  to  the  point  where  he  was  last  hidden, 
would  advance  on  this  narrow  path  one  some  yards 
in  advance  of  the  other.  He  placed  himself  nearest 
to  the  advancing  enemy,  and  Hiram  at  a  place  about 
ten  paces  farther  up  the  path. 

His  plan  was  to  let  the  first  man — the  one  with 
the  rifle — pass  him,  and  then  as  the  other  came  op- 
posite him  to  kill  this  one  with  a  pistol-shot,  which, 
indeed,  from  the  place  where  the  Major  was  hidden 
would  be  fired  from  a  point  so  near  the  man  that  the 
shot  could  not  but  be  fatal  if  the  cartridge  was  good. 

It  was  assumed  that  at  this  shot  the  man  with  the 
rifle  would  wheel  round  and  endeavor  to  get  a  shot 
at  the  Major ;  and  as  he  should  turn,  Hiram,  who 
would  be  behind  him,  v/as  to  come  upon  him  with 
his  bill. 

But  the  Major's  pistol  might  miss  fire  on  account 
of  the  age  of  the  cartridges. 

In  that  case  the  Major  was  to  close  with  his  man 
so  that  the  other  could  not  fire  mthout  danger  of 
hitting  his  friend ;  and  while  he  hesitated,  Hiram's 
bill  was  to  come  into  play,  and  then,  if  all  went  weU, 
they  would  be  two  to  one. 

But  not  even  so  little  a  battle  as  this  is  ever 
fought  precisely  as  it  is  planned. 


214  ''AS   WE   WEKT  MAKCHING   OIT." 

Both  men  came  stepping  forward  swiftly,  but  on 
tlie  alert,  and  in  the  order  imagined.  Pembroke 
fired  as  had  been  planned,  and  the  cartridge  was 
good  and  his  man  fell ;  but  the  other  did  not  turn. 

On  the  contrary,  getting  somehow  over  his 
shoulder  a  hghtning-like  glimpse  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, he  started  and  ran  Uke  a  deer  straight  up  the 
path,  with  Hiram  at  his  lieels ;  for  Hiram,  having 
got  his  part  of  the  programme  definitely  in  his  head, 
could  not  change  in  a  hurry  the  conception  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  hit  this  fellow.  He  gained  upon  him 
enough  to  make  a  thrust  that  caught  the  fellow,  but 
very  lightly,  on  one  side  of  his  neck ;  at  which 
touch  the  fellow  dashed  away  out  of  the  path,  and, 
luckily  for  Hiram,  the  vines  and  branches  caught 
liis  rifle,  jerked  it  from  any  chance  for  an  aim,  and 
he,  seeing  Hiram  so  near,  dropped  it  and  scrambled 
forward  in  his  desperate  flight. 

But  seeing  suddenly  that  Hiram's  weapon  was 
caught  in  the  vines,  and  supposing,  apparently,  that 
the  vines  would  hold  Hiram  long  enough  to  give 
him  a  chance  for  a  shot,  he  struggled  forward 
and  stooped  for  his  rifle.  But  he  had  not  counted 
upon  the  length  of  Hiram's  weapon.  Hiram,  push- 
ing his  way  only  half  into  the  thicket,  with  one 
desperate  thrust  drove  the  scythe  into  the  fellow's 
back,  over  his  shoulder,  as  he  was  stooping,  and 
he  never  rose.  Then  Hiram  struggled  forward  and 
got  the  rifle  himself,  and  got  from  the  body  of  the 
prostrate  man  about  twenty  cartridges. 

Then  the  Major  got  the  revolver  and  cartridges 


PEMBROKE   ON   HIS   WAT   TO   THE   ARMY.       215 

of  the  other,  wlio  was  hit  in  the  head,  and  they  were 
well  supplied  with  arms  and  ammunition. 

^'  I  was  possessed  to  do  it,"  said  Hiram  ;  "  I  was 
possessed  to  do  it !  But,  sure's  yer  born,  Major,  I 
reckoned  I'd  missed  a  figure  wlien  I  seen  him  run 
dat  way." 

"  You  did  it  well,  Hiram,"  said  the  Major.  "  You 
did  it  like  a  good  and  brave  soldier." 

And  Hiram's  face  shone  like  a  patch  of  varnished 
wall  where  the  sun  touches  it. 

But  the  shot  fired  would  be  taken  by  the  others 
as  the  signal  for  them,  and  they  would  be  on  hand 
very  shortly ;  and  what  was  to  be  done  next? 

Pembroke,  seeing  how  little  these  fellows  had 
been  up  to  this  sort  of  fighting,  and  believing  tlie 
others  might  be  as  easily  caught,  wanted  to  lie  in 
wait  for  them  also  ;  but  Hiram  was  against  this  be- 
cause it  was  not  likely  that  five  together  should  be 
without  one  or  two  more  skilled  in  bushwhacking, 
and  he  believed  in  the  choice  of  new  ground. 

Pembroke,  therefore,  yielding  to  the  opinion  that 
the  women  would  certainly  be  safe  before  these  fel- 
lows, taking  care  of  their  wounded  and  burying 
their  dead,  could  proceed  to  Skibbevan,  even  if  now 
inclined  to  go  there,  and  conceding  that  they  could 
fight  to  more  advantage  on  ground  of  their  own  se- 
lection if  pursued,  accepted  Hiram's  plan. 

They  therefore  started  boldly  backward  upon  tlie 
path  by  which  the  others  had  come,  in  order  not  to 
leave  it  in  the  vicinity  of  this  conflict,  though  not 


216  "AS   WE   WENT  MAKCHING   ON." 

knowing  but  the  three  on  the  other  road  might  come 
this  way. 

At  about  half  a  mile  from  the  place  at  which  the 
dead  man  lay  in  the  path,  Hiram  suddenly  quitted 
it  by  a  turn  to  the  left  hand,  and  stepping  into  the 
bed  of  a  mountain-torrent,  dry  at  this  time,  led  the 
way  down  the  mountain  by  a  very  steep  and  difficult 
zigzag. 

They  went  on  thus  for  an  hour  without  a  word 
and  hearing  not  a  sound  from  their  late  pursuers, 
and  now  began  to  find  the  way  easy  and  sloping 
into  broad  reaches  of  nearly  level  woodland. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

POTLTJCK. 

They  heard  no  more  of  tlieir  foes,  and  all  the  rest 
of  that  day  saw  not  a  sign  of  the  existence  in  the 
mountain  of  any  human  creature.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  they  were  upon  wet  ground,  in  a  sort  of 
half -swampy  region  near  the  river,  and  in  the  dim 
light  at  nightfall  Hiram  led  the  way  through  a 
deep  swamp  where  any  but  one  familiar  with  the 
path  would  have  been  mired  at  every  step ;  and 
so  they  reached  a  dry  knoll  in  this  hidden  place, 
which,  it  immediately  occurred  to  the  Major,  was 
perhaps  a  station  on  the  "underground  railroad." 
There  they  ate  heartily  of  N'aomi's  provender,  and 
passed  the  night  as  little  disturbed  as  if  it  had  been 
in  the  garden  of  Eden. 

I^ext  day  they  finished  I^aomi's  supply  and  got 
an  early  start.  They  reached  the  river  before  noon, 
and  Hiram,  leading  the  Major,  hunted  up  and  down 
the  stream  to  find  what  he  evidently  knew  was 
there,  but  could  not  readily  discover.  Eventually 
he  returned,  poling  a  rickety  old  skiff,  in  which, 
together,  they  reached  the  other  side,  partly  by  help 
of  the  pole  and  partly  by  the  current,  which,  carry- 
ing them  swiftly  downstream,  carried  them  across, 
thanks  to  a  bend  in  the  river. 


218  ^'AS   WE   TVEI^T  MAECHING   ON." 

Here  was  the  end  of  Hiram's  service,  for  the  road 
that  the  Major  was  to  take  was  plain  and  clear  from 
this  point,  and  ran  not  more  than  three  or  four  hun- 
dred yards  from  where  thej  stood.  They  parted  at 
the  skiff,  with  that  full-hearted  grasp  of  the  hand 
that  is  exchanged  only  between  men  who  have 
some  good  reason  to  deeply  know  each  other's 
nature. 

Hiram's  eyes  glistened  with  joy  as  the  Major 
said : 

"  Hiram,  I  feel  safer  about  the  women  since  I've 
seen  how  you  can  use  your  weapon." 

"  Mars'r  Major,  if  any  of  'em  comes  dar,  I'll  jab  it 
into  'em !  I'll  jab  it  into  'em  !" 

This  was  said  with  an  energy  that  almost  upset 
the  little  skiff  as  the  current  carried  her  out  down 
the  next  reach  of  the  river. 

Pembroke  went  steadily  on  in  the  direction  that 
had  been  indicated  by  Hiram ;  and  at  every  stej) 
almost  gained  the  assurance  that  he  was  approaching 
a  very  large  encampment,  for  he  could  hear  an 
occasional  drum-beat  and  a  bugle-call,  and  the 
screaming  of  many  mules.  But  he  could  not  for  a 
great  while  get  even  a  glimpse  of  the  country 
before  him,  because  he  was  so  far  down  in  the  level 
of  the  valley  that  the  heavy  timber  completely  ob- 
scured the  view  of  things  beyond. 

For  hours  he  pushed  on,  however,  and,  excej^t  for 
the  birds  and  squirrels,  saw  not  a  sign  of  life  in  the 
woods  about  him ;  and  the  foliage  of  the  tall  trees 
was  so  dense  that  the  day  grew  dim,  and  it  seemed 


POTLUCK.  219 

to  be  already  near  nightfall,  wlien  it  was  probably 
only  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  He  was  in 
the  neutral  belt  that  surrounds  an  active  army — ^too 
near  to  it  for  the  enemy's  guerillas,  but  too  far 
away  to  happen  upon  foragers,  unless  it  had  been 
an  organized  foraging  expedition. 

He  now  changed  his  direction,  in  the  hope  to  get 
more  speedily  into  the  open  valley,  feeling  the  cer- 
tainty that  as  the  base  of  the  army  near  to  which 
he  now  knew  he  was  must  be  at  Winchester,  he 
would,  upon  the  by-roads  nearer  the  turnpike,  come 
upon  some  stragglers  who  had  wandered  off  from 
the  line  of  march,  and  who  would  have  food. 

In  fact,  this  change  brought  him  out  of  the  heavy 
timber  and  upon  an  open  ridge,  from  which  he  got 
a  glimpse  of  the  country  and  some  indications  of 
the  camp,  but  uncertain  through  the  woods,  in  the 
valley  itself. 

His  most  immediate  purpose,  however,  was  at- 
tained. He  came  upon  a  soldier,  a  fine  strapping 
fellow,  who  was  stepping  out  well  on  a  kind  of 
farmers'  wood-road  that  ran  along  the  timber  at 
right  angles  with  the  path  by  which  Pembroke  had 
now  come  out  of  the  woods,  and  which  consequently 
led  toward  the  point  from  Avhich  the  bugle-calls 
came.  The  Major  was  at  a  point  which  the  soldier 
would  reach  in  a  few  moments,  and  he  waited ;  and 
the  soldier  came  on  with  the  step,  not  of  a  strag- 
gler, but  of  one  who  wishes  to  get  into  camp. 

As  the  soldier  came  within  a  rod,  his  eye  caught 
the  figure  of  a  man,  and  he  halted  and  brought  his 


220 

piece  up ;  but  as  a  more  direct  scrutiny  showed  the 
uniform,  he  dropped  the  butt  of  his  rifle  to  the 
ground  and  sakited  the  Major. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?"  said  the  Major. 

"Hospital  at  Winchester,  sir;  wounded  at 
Opequan  ;  recovered,  sent  forward  to  join  my  regi- 
ment.    Perhaps  you  can  show  me  the  way,  sir  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Major.  "  I  was  wounded  also,  and 
have  been  hidden  in  the  mountains  .here  a  great 
while,  and  want  to  get  to  the  camp  myself.  But  I 
am  a  little  used  up  and  hungry." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  you  are  pale,  not  quite  right  yet,  sir. 
Please  to  sit  there."  And  he  partly  supported  and 
partly  pushed  the  Major  down  upon  a  comfortable 
tuft  of  grass  at  the  root  of  a  large  tree. 

Then  he  dropped  his  knapsack,  blanket,  and  haver- 
sack, carefully  rested  his  rifle  on  the  accumulation 
of  his  kit,  ran  two  or  three  rods  away  to  a  little 
vein  of  water  he  had  just  passed,  returned  with  his 
tin  cup  half -full  of  water,  and,  as  he  came  forward 
again,  tipped  out  of  his  canteen  into  the  cup  a  good 
pull  of  whiskey,  and  passed  it  to  the  Major,  who 
speedily  put  the  whole  draught  where  it  would  do 
most  good. 

"  That  win  stiffen  you  up  until  you  can  eat,  sir." 

Then  the  soldier  brought  out  of  the  recesses  of 
his  bag  a  little  store,  which  he  had  evidently  laid 
away  for  his  own  comfort,  of  the  dainty  light  bis- 
cuit for  the  making  and  baking  of  which  the  kitchen 
Dinah  possesses  some  secret,  and  which  are  a  grate- 
ful variation  from  the  monotony  of  hard-tack,  as 


POTLUCK.  221 

well  as  a  grand  inducement  for  a  soldier  to  get  on 
a  by-road,  since  on  the  main  road  where  the  whole 
army  is  no  given  number  of  darky  women  could 
make  enough  for  all ;  but  one  soldier  on  a  by-road 
is  sure  to  obtain  this  tribute  of  African  hero-worsliip 
and  gratitude. 

These  little  cakes  had  been  split  open  while 
warm,  and  a  space  between  them  filled  with  that 
honey  of  the  Shenandoah  Yalley  of  which  nobody 
knows  much  but  the  people  of  the  valley,  and  which 
nobody  has  fully  appreciated  at  its  true  merits  but  a 
soldier  who  has  campaigned  in  that  country.  In  the 
rush  of  the  Major's  appetite  these  dainties  melted 
away  like  snowflakes  on  a  hot  gun,  and  the  generous 
fellow  who  had  turned  out  his  treasure  for  an  ofiicer 
in  distress  said ; 

"  These  will  do  till  we  find  something  more  sub- 
stantial." 

As  the  Major  thanked  the  soldier  for  his  happy 
supply  of  provender  and  the  good-will  with  which 
he  gave  it,  they  fell  into  conversation,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  they  should  proceed  together  in  accord- 
ance with  a  plan  the  soldier  already  had  in  mind,  to 
cover  yet  before  nightfall  about  half  the  distance 
between  them  and  the  camp,  have  supper,  bivouac 
on  the  hills,  and,  starting  at  sunrise,  get  into  camp 
early  next  day. 

Eefreshed  by  the  soldier's  whiskey  and  cakes,  the 
Major  was  soon  ready,  and  they  went  ahead  at  a 
good  gait.  He  was  a  stout  fellow,  the  comrade 
thus  found — a  well-constructed  youngster,  with  a 


222 

handsome,  smooth  face,  blue  eyes,  and  of  ready 
speech ;  and  from  him,  without  showing  altogether 
Iiis  want  of  acquaintance  with  recent  military  oper- 
ations, the  Major  learned  that  the  army  then  in  the 
valley,  and  commanded  by  Sheridan,  was  in  camp 
near  the  head  of  the  valley,  on  a  tributary  of  the 
Shenandoah  called  Cedar  Creek  ;  and  that  the 
Major's  regiment  was  there  in  an  organization  now 
entitled  the  Sixth  Corps,  which  had  been  formed 
since  the  Major  was  wounded. 

Even  the  name  of  Sheridan  was  new  to  the 
Major,  for  it  had  not  been  heard  much  in  the  East 
at  the  time  he  was  knocked  over  ;  and  as  he  heard 
the  soldier  name  with  pride  that  glorious  fighting 
organization,  the  Sixth  Corps,  he  discovered  that 
he  had  some  small  share  in  its  glory,  for  though  its 
name  was  new,  yet  his  regiment,  brigade,  and  divi- 
sion were  part  of  it,  though  formerly  they  had  been 
in  the  Fourth  Corps  under  General  Keyes. 

More  in  a  dream  than  in  the  full  possession  of  his 
senses, — in  a  whirl  with  the  recent  recovery  of  so 
many  impressions, — the  Major  toward  the  last  simply 
gave  liimself  up  to  the  guidance  of  the  soldier,  and 
followed  without  a  word,  until  they  suddenly  came 
to  a  halt  in  a  poor  little  inclosure  that  served  for  a 
farm-yard,  and  the  Major  looked  up  to  observe  the 
soldier  holding  a  colloquy  with  the  farmer. 

The  soldier  was  trying  to  buy  some  choice  morsel 
of  meat  or  bread  to  feed  the  Major,  and  the  farmer 
said  : 

"We're   just   eat   out   clean,    and   hain't   got   a 


POTLUCK.  223 

mouthful" — wliicli  was  the  ordinary  and  indeed 
very  natural  refrain  of  the  time  and  the  place. 

There  were  hens  scratcliing  around,  and  the  sol- 
dier said : 

"What  will  3'ou  take  for  one  of  them  hens?" 

"Well,  now,  I  can't  sell  none  o'  them  hens. 
They're  the  last  I've  got ;  and  when  the  Confeder- 
ate army  was  to  Winchester  and  'bout  hyar,  I  could 
'a'  sold  'em  all  for  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  piece." 

"  Secesh  money  ?" 

"  Ye-es ;  but  I  don't  want  to  sell  'em  for  any 
kind  of  money." 

Just  then  a  gun  went  off,  and  a  hen  that,  in  the 
confidence  of  home  habits,  had  strayed  within  three 
or  four  yards  of  the  muzzle  of  the  soldier's  piece 
sprawled  and  kicked  her  last  kick  on  the  ground. 

"  Now,  farmer,"  said  the  soldier,  "  that  one  ain't 
much  use  to  you,  and  I'll  give  you  a  dollar  for  her 
— good  money,  too.  You  see  I'm  fond  of  chicken, 
and  here's  a  wounded  officer  that's  used  up  and 
wants  a  good  feed ;  so  we  can't  stand  on  as  much 
ceremony  as  is  customary." 

Thereupon  the  soldier  passed  out  his  dollar ;  and 
though  tlie  farmer  clutched  the  money  eagerly 
enough,  he  was  inclined  to  continue  his  complaint. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  soldier.  "You  pocket 
the  money,  old  man,  and  if  you  can  get  a  dollar  for 
every  chicken  you've  got  left,  my  advice  is,  take  it. 
They  give  us  now  four  days'  rations  to  last  five  days ; 
and  that  means  to  live  on  the  country  for  one  day, 
and  it's  my  opinion  we  do  a  little  more.      Sheri- 


224 

dan's  ordered  to  clear  out  this  valley  now  so  that 
the  Secesh  can't  come  down  it  again,  and  he'll  do 
it.  So  don't  monrn  over  this  chicken,  bnt  save 
your  tears  for  greater  occasions." 

TJiereupon  the  soldier  and  the  Major  stepped  out 
again  on  their  journey ;  and  when  well  on  the  road 
once  more,  the  soldier  said  : 

"Like  as  not  there  was  two  or  three  of  these 
guerilla  fellows  hid  away  in  that  shanty,  so  it  won't 
do  to  stop  near  here  or  they'll  be  on  us  in  the 
night ;  though  we  may  have  reinforcements  when 
we  make  a  fire,  for  there's  a  good  many  of  our  fel- 
lows in  the  Yarmount  brigade  that's  just  like  me  ; 
that  is,  their  time  was  out  two  or  three  days  ago, 
and  they've  enlisted  again  and  are  going  to  the  front. 
They're  out  on  all  the  by-roads,  having  a  nice  tramp 
for  fun." 

It  was  about  an  hour  later  that,  as  they  forded  a 
pretty  deep  run,  the  soldier  found  an  abandoned 
camp-kettle,  which  he  at  once  seized. 

"  That's  the  daisy,"  he  said ;  "  and  we  might  as 
well  halt  now,  for  this  will  be  troublesome  to  car- 
ry." 

So  they  halted,  on  the  knoll  that  they  mounted  as 
they  left  the  stream,  under  a  wide-branched,  dense- 
ly-leaved white-pine  tree.  Here  the  soldier  soon 
made  a  glorious  fire,  and  also  a  shelter,  for  the  Octo- 
ber night  was  now  nearly  upon  them,  and  the  north 
wind,  blowing  up  the  valley,  somewhat  open  at  this 
point,  whistled  sharply  over  this  exposed  point, 
even  though  they  were  over  on  the  southern  slope. 


POTLUCK.  225 

From  the  abundance  of  dry  wood  near,  the  sol- 
dier fed  the  fire  ;  and  bringing  the  camp-kettle 
about  half  full  of  water,  built  it  upon  a  good  foun- 
dation of  stones  placed  like  a  tripod,  so  that  it  might 
not  tip  over  at  a  critical  moment. 

Having  made  the  fire  and  put  on  the  kettle,  he 
skyugled  around  for  some  distance  and  came  upon 
a  bit  of  ancient  snake-fence,  the  division-line,  per- 
haps, of  two  estates,  and  brought  on  his  shoulder 
half  a  dozen  stakes  from  this  ;  and  these  he  placed 
with  one  end  in  the  ground  and  the  other  against  a 
long,  low  branch  of  the  pine  ;  and  when  his  rubber 
blanket  was  fastened  on  the  windward  side  of  this 
barrier,  there  was  a  complete  defence  against  the 
sharp  wind. 

At  the  same  time  the  Major  had  kept  the  fire 
lively,  and  cleanly  plucked  the  old  hen.  Scarcely 
was  this  much  of  preparation  completed  when  it  was 
made  plain  that  the  soldier  was  right  in  his  antici- 
pations about  company,  for  another  soldier  joined 
them,  and,  with  an  easy  "  How  are  you,  partner  ?"  to 
the  soldier  and  a  salute  to  the  Major,  sat  himself 
do\vn  at  a  little  distance  from  the  fire. 

His  eyes  were  suddenly  riveted  upon  the  hen, 
fat,  round,  and  ancient,  plucked  and  singed  as  she 
lay  on  the  oil-cloth  flap  of  the  soldier's  haversack. 

"Partner,"  he  said  to  the  soldier,  "that  was  a 
layin'  hen." 

"Was  it?"  said  the  other. 

"  Yes.     Will    you  sell  the  eggs  ?    Her  wattles 
shows  she's  got  some." 
15 


226 

"Wattles,  eh?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  what'Uyou  give  for  'em  ?"  said  tlie  other, 
who,  though  generous  enough  to  divide  with  all  the 
world,  met  a  commercial  proposition  in  a  commer- 
cial spirit,  and  recognized  in  the  new-comer  one  who 
should  have  been  a  contractor. 

"  J^ow,"  said  the  last  man,  who  was  from  Massa- 
chusetts, "  I've  got  some  nice  sweet  butter." 

"  Done,"  said  Vermont.  "  Pass  out  your  butter. 
But  you  take  the  chance  on  the  eggs." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  other ;  and  the  old  hen  was 
soon  ripped  open  and  Massachusetts  was  happy,  for 
there  were  really  in  her  eggs  of  all  sizes  and  every 
degree  of  advancement,  from  one  with  a  shell  about 
half  formed  down  to  tiny  ones  the  size  of  a  buck- 
shot. There  must  have  been  about  twenty  very 
near  the  size  of  bullets. 

From  this  moment  a  good  meal  was  perceptible  ; 
for  Yermont  had  some  hard  bread  left,  there  was  but- 
ter now,  and  the  old  hen  was  put  in  the  j)ot.  Massa- 
chusetts balanced  his  tin  cup  on  the  edge  of  the  fire 
and  boiled  his  eggs,  and  they  sat  down  around  the 
cheery  blaze  and  bubble,  and  while  they  were  mus- 
ino^  the  fire  burned. 

Every  pause  is  not  awful.  Sometimes  there  is  a 
pleasant  tranquillity  of  spirit  between  comrades  be- 
side a  fire  that  crackles,  which  needs  not  words  for 
sympathy  of  soul. 

But  they  fell  into  conversation  as  Massachusetts 
drew  out  his  eggs    and  for  courtesy  passed  them 


POTLUCK.  227 

around  on  a  piece  of  bark,  each  of  the  others  taking 
one  of  the  little  yellow  bullets,  not  enough  to  en- 
croach upon  the  supply,  but  sufficient  as  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  politeness. 

"  By  Jiminy !"  said  Yermont,  "  it's  lucky  we 
didn't  open  that  hen  by  the  farm-house.  Old 
Secesh  would  have  wanted  another  dollar.  He'd  'a' 
counted  every  one  of  them  as  eggs,  and  then  counted 
every  egg  as  a  chicken  ;  and  so  they  would  'a'  been, 
I  suppose,  in  time." 

"  Yes,"  said  Massachusetts  ;  "but  before  that  time 
the  Secesh  himself  might  'a'  been  counted  out." 

"  Them  fellows  don't  count  on  a  game  only  so 
far  as  they  see  it,"  said  Yermont. 

"  Last  cherry-time  was  a  year,"  said  Massachu- 
setts, "  one  of  'em  had  a  deuce  of  a  time  with  our 
fellows  about  a  cherry-tree.  She  was  a  beauty,  that 
tree,  and  just  loaded  with  ox-hearts.  Our  boys  was 
bound  to  have  'em,  and  the  tree  was  too  big  to 
climb;  but  there  were  axes,  so  the  boys  cut  her 
down.  Goodness,  how  old  Yirginia  did  go  on! 
But  as  every  one  of  them  fellows  might  be  cut 
down  themselves  in  half  an  hour,  and  came  there 
for  that,  of  course  they  didn't  stand  much  for  one 
tree  more  or  less  in  Yirginia." 

Just  then  a  plaintive  voice  broke  in  : 

"  Can  any  of  you  tell  me  where  the  Second  Rhode 
Island  Eegiment  is  ?" 

They  looked  around,  and  there  was  another — a 
slim,  pale  fellow,  who  had  been  a  good  deal  stouter, 
but  was  now  stiff  and  used  up  with  rheumatism. 


228 

"Wlij,  she's  up  in  front  with  onr  division.  But 
you  won't  get  there  to-night,  partner  ;  come  and  sit 
down  by  the  fire." 

So  the  new-comer,  saluting  the  Major,  sat  down 
as  proposed  ;  and  in  doing  so  brought  into  view  a 
haversack  whose  bulging  condition  immediately 
caught  the  eye  of  Yerraont. 

"  Got  all  your  rations,  I  guess,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rhode  Island ;  "  I've  got  lots  of 
pork  and  hard-tack,  and  no  appetite.  Do  you  want 
some  ?" 

"  AYliy,"  said  Massachusetts,  "  some  o'  the  pork 
would  salt  the  pot." 

"  Yes,"  said  Vermont ;  "and  if  you've  got  plenty 
of  hard-tack,  some  of  it  broken  up  in  the  pot  would 
thicken  the  soup." 

"  Well,  help  yourselves,  boys,"  said  Ehode  Isl- 
and ;  and  he  put  the  haversack  forward  between 
them. 

Then,  feeling  that  this  reception  made  him  per- 
fectly at  home,  he  got  up  and  put  his  knapsack 
down  for  a  seat,  and  disposed  his  rifle  safely  on  the 
ground  near  him,  and  then  very  stiffly  and  pain- 
fully sat  down  again. 

''This  marching  kills  me,"  he  said,  "and  I  fell 
out  the  other  day.  I  wish  to  gracious  we  could  get 
the  Secesh  all  in  one  corner  and  have  it  out  with  a 
square  fight,  so  that  the  boys  could  either  be  com- 
fortably buried  or  go  home." 

"'  Well,"  said  Vermont,  "  this  soup  will  be  a  great 


POTLUCK.  229 

dish,  and  when  you  get  your  bellyful  of  it  you'll 
feel  better." 

"Like  enough,"  said  the  other;  "it  smells 
mighty  nice." 

And  certainly  a  rich  fragrance  more  delightful 
than  the  odor  of  the  pine-trees  filled  the  air ;  and  the 
eloquent  bubble  with  which  the  juices  of  the  old 
hen  responded  to  the  warm  attentions  of  the  fire 
made  fine  music  for  the  ears  of  hungry  men.  There 
was  now  in  this  famous  camp-kettle  one  hen,  about 
four  gallons  of  water,  three  or  four  pounds  of  hard 
bread  well  broken  up,  and  a  lump  of  salt  pork  half 
the  size  of  a  cartridge-box;  while  Yermont  kept 
handy  his  tin  cup  full  of  a  little  cold  water  which 
he  poured  in  from  time  to  time  as  the  boiling  be- 
came two  active. 

"  Because,"  he  said,  "  if  it  boils  too  hard  it  will 
make  the  hen  tough  ;  and  that  she  don't  need." 

Suddenly  they  heard  a  rustle  of  leaves,  a  jingle 
of  accoutrements,  and  another  soldier  came  briskly 
forward  and  stood  by  the  fire,  and  broke  out  elo- 
quently, as  he  cast  his  eyes  about,  with  : 

"  Be  my  soul,  b'ys,  yez  are  having  it  as  comfort- 
able here  as  iver  I  saw  before  in  the  whole  course 
of  my  life  !  I  belong  to  the  Thirty-sixth  Eegiment 
of  New  York  Yolunteers,  and,  by  your  laves,  I'll  be 
one  o'  the  company." 

They  all  said  "  Certainly,"  and  the  Irishman  was 
immediately  at  home. 

"  And  what  have  yez  in  the  pot,  thin,  if  it's  a 
fair  question?" 


230  ''AS  WE   WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

''  Chicken  sonp." 

"  Chicken  soup !  Chicken  soup  !  Bj  the  mother 
of  Moses,  did  any  one  ever  hear  the  loike  o'  that  ? 
And  it's  a  moighty  fine  dish,  that ;  a  moighty  fine 
dish  is  chicken  soup.  But,  b'ys" — very  seriously — 
"is  there  iver  a  chicken  in  it  V^ 

At  this  they  laughed  boisterously. 

''  Well,  now,  b'ys,  ye  naydn't  laugh.  You  know 
there's  Massachusetts  fellows  and  Rhode  Island  fel- 
lows, in  our  brigade,  and  Oi  have  seen  them  make 
moighty  gud  chicken  soup  wid  pork  and  beans,  and 
I  thought  it  might  be  some  of  the  same." 

Hereupon  Yermont,  with  two  clean  crotched 
sticks  that  he  was  using  for  cooking- utensils,  lifted 
the  hen  into  view. 

"Ah,  the  lovely  darlint!"  said  Pat.  "Howld 
her  there  till  I  give  her  the  grand  salute;"  and 
he  brought  his  piece  up  in  front  of  him,  to  present 
arms,  with  a  ring  and  snap  that  showed  his  whole 
soul  was  in  it.  And  Bhode  Island,  entering  into 
the  humor  of  the  occasion,  rolled  the  drum  with 
two  sticks  on  the  bottom  of  a  tin  can. 

"  She  is  a  lovely  craycher,"  said  the  Irishman, 
"  and  fit  to  lie  near  the  hearts  of  hayroes." 

Pat's  impulse  stirred  them  all  up,  and  they  were 
as  musical  as  grasshoppers. 

"  But,  b'ys,"  he  said,  "  are  there  any  perraties  in 
the  pot  ?" 

There  were  none. 

"  Then  bedad !"  he  said,  "  that's  a  great  want. 
But  you  had  none,  I  suppose.     Now,  I  have  five  or 


POTLUCK.  231 

six  here  as  nice  as  iver  came  out  of  the  ground ;  and 
though  I  wouldn't  wrong  your  hospitality  by  an  im- 
putation that  a  man  need  pay  his  way  among  sojers, 
yet,  if  it's  parliamentary,  I  would  like  to  move  that 
the  perraties  be  put  into  the  pot." 

The  motion  was  put  by  Yermont,  seconded  by 
Rhode  Island,  voted  unanimously  by  Massachu- 
setts, and  the  potatoes  went  into  position  on  the 
right  and  left  of  the  pork,  and  opposite  the  hen, 
who  filled  the  whole  danger-space  in  front  of  the 
line  thus  formed. 

And  then  for  a  good  while,  as  the  soldiers  prat- 
tled and  smoked  their  pipes,  and  the  fire  crackled 
away,  and  the  Major  worried  about  the  sweet  little 
woman  up  the  mountain,  the  materials  in  the  pot 
bubbled  themselves  into  soup ;  and  at  last  Yer- 
mont, cooling  a  cup  full  of  it  nicely,  set  it  before 
the  Major. 

And  the  Major,  finding  it  of  a  palatable  tempera- 
ture, put  the  cup  to  his  lips,  and,  tipping  the  bottom 
gradually  upward,  did  full  honor  to  the  contents, 
and  declared  the  soup  was  excellent ;  and  thereupon 
all  helped  themselves  and  had  a  grand  time. 

Feast,  feed,  banquet,  symposium,  meal,  repast, 
revel,  high  jinks,  and  fifty  other  words  have  been 
used  to  describe  the  more  or  less  extraordinary 
action  of  swallowing,  gorging,  devouring,  discuss- 
ing, taking  down,  or  bolting  food,  aliment,  prov- 
ender, viands,  cates,  rations,  keep,  fare,  creature 
comforts ;  but  not  one  of  them  does  entire  justice 
to  a  supper  of  chicken  soup  made  by  three  or  four 


332  '^AS   WE   AVENT   MARCHING   ON." 

old  soldiers,  and  eaten  in  the  Yirginia  woods  beside 
a  bivouac-fire.  It  is  a  refresliment  that  "  laps  over 
everything,"  as  the  boys  said ;  both  for  the  comfort 
it  gives  at  the  moment,  and  for  the  remembrances 
it  revives  in  other  days  when  we  realize  a  hero's 
prophecy : 

" Forsan  et  hsec  olim  meminisse  juvabit" 

Major  Pembroke  supped  well  on  the  soup  and 
shreds  of  the  hen  ;  and  weary  with  the  day,  and 
worn  out  with  anxiety,  he  stretched  himself  on  the 
carpet  of  dry  pine-needles,  and  slept  soundly, 
soothed  to  happy  slumber  by  the  crackle  of  the  fire 
at  his  feet  and  the  prattle  of  the  cheery  fellows 
about  him.  But  the  others,  who  could  sleep  at  any 
time,  enjoyed  the  hours  about  the  fire  in  an  intel- 
lectual spirit. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


ALONZO    AND    CORIANDA. 


About  the  fire  the  four  soldiers  smoked  tlieir 
pipes,  and  in  low  tones  of  pleasant,  brotherly  col- 
loquy fought  their  battles  over  again  ;  while  the 
Major,  a  little  apart,  fell  into  an  uneasy  sleep.  In 
a  little  while  the  colloquy  of  the  soldiers  dwindled 
away  to  a  mere  fancy  here  and  there  of  one  or 
another,  and  then  they  smoked  in  silence;  but  in  a 
true  fellowship  of  good  soldiers  even  silence  is  not 
dull. 

Suddenly  Vermont  proposed  that  somebody 
should  tell  a  story ;  and  the  proposition  was  hailed 
with  the  cordial  surprise  that  might  have  been 
stirred  by  a  great  discovery. 

Everybody  excused  himself  from  this  duty ; 
but  finally  the  New-Yorker  agreed  to  relate  an 
account  of  some  thinofs  that  had  come  to  his  own 
knowledge.  "  It's  not  a  story  at  all,"  lie  said ;  "  but 
it's  almost  quare  enough  to  be  a  story." 

They  accepted  this  as  a  satisfactory  compromise; 
and  he  began : 

"  There  was  a  gal — "  And  he  halted  as  if  uncer- 
tain just  how  to  go  on. 

'•Yes,"  said  Massachusetts,  "there's  always  a 
gal—" 


234  ^'AS   WE   WENT  MAKCHING   ON^." 

"  Was  she  handsome  ?"  said  Ehode  Island. 

"  Handsome  ?  Why,  of  course  she  was,"  said  Ver- 
mont. "All  gals  are  handsome,  more  or  less ;  but 
anyhow  there's  never  any  stories  abont  gals  that  are 
not  handsome.  But  the  others  are  sometimes  very 
nice ;  and  a  tidy,  sweet  little  gal  is  a  masterpiece  of 
nature  even  if  her  face  ain't  like  a  copper-plate 
picture." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Massachusetts,  "  I  don't  see 
why  all  stories  should  be  about  gals." 

"  AYell,  I  can  tell  that,"  said  Ehode  Island. 

"  "Well,  what  is  the  reason  ?" 

"  Stories  are  an  account  of  the  struggles  and  trials 
and  hopes  and  victories  of  some  fellows ;  and  fel- 
lows are  generally  of  a  mind  that  there's  nothing  in 
the  world  worth  all  that — only  gals." 

"  Well,"  said  Pat,  "  who  the  deuce  would  any- 
body suppose  was  a-tellin'  this  story  ?" 

"  That's  so,"  said  Vermont.  ''  Go  on  with  the 
story." 

"'  "Well,  there  was  a  gal ;  but  I'm  sorry  to  have  to 
inform  this  respectable  company  that  she  wasn't  a 
handsome  gal.  She  wasn't  one  of  the  kind  that  has 
eyes  like  stars  and  diamonds  and  things,  and  hair 
like  threads  of  gold,  and  teeth  like  pearls,  and 
cheeks  like  peaches,  and  lips  like  cherries.  Oh 
no  !  Her  face  wasn't  a  fruit-stand,  nor  a  jeweller's 
shop-window.  She  was  just  a  quiet  little  girl  like 
anybody  else.  Her  eyes  were  pretty  good  eyes  to 
see  with ;  but  sometimes  they  were  dull  enough  to 
look  at.     And  on  her  hair,  when  she  wanted  to  cut 


ALONZO   AND   CORIAiq-DA.  235 

a  dash,  she  put  the  usual  quantity  of  tricopherous 
aud  bear's  grease ;  and  when  her  face  was  yaller  she 
put  on  white  dust  like  a  dabster." 

"Did  you  ever  see  her  do  it?"  said  Massa- 
chusetts. 

"  NoWj  see  here,"  said  Fat :  "  I'm  a-goin'  to  tell 
ye  as  much  of  this  liere  story  or  anecdote  as  ye 
ought  to  know ;  and  I  don't  want  to  be  interviewed 
about  it.  See  her  do  it  ?  Why,  for  all  ye  know 
this  gal  was  a  fairy." 

"JSTo,  I  don't  believe  she  was,"  said  Yermont. 
''I  never  heard  of  a  fairy-gal  that  wasn't  hand- 
some ;  and  I  guess  fairies  haven't  got  powder  and 
bear's-grease." 

"Kow,  even  though  tliis  gal  was  only  as  hand- 
some as  other  gals,  she  was  the  nicest,  brightest, 
gayest  little  creature  that  ever  chased  butterflies. 
Her  folks  were  pretty  well  off,  and  they  lived  in 
good  style :  brown-stone  front,  and  no  ash-barrels 
before  the  door.  But  the  greatest  trouble  in  tliat 
family  was  that  the  gal  had  freckles.  You  might 
imagine  now  that  I'm  travelling  to  get  orders  for  a 
diamond,  hifalutin,  sure  cure  for  freckles,  only  that 
ye  know  I'm  a  sojer.  Besides,  there  wasn't  any  cure 
in  the  universe  for  them  freckles.  The  family 
spent  a  fortune  on  it.  They  got  poor  trying  to 
find  a  cure  for  them  freckles;  and  at  last  there 
were  the  freckles  all  the  same. 

"  So  that  interfered  with  the  gal's  chances  in  the 
matrimony-market.  She  wasn't  handsome,  I  told 
you  ;  but  lier  face  was   bright,  and  she  had    been 


236  ^'' AS   AVE   WENT   MARCHIIhG   ON." 

gay.  But  now  the  freckles  spoiled  tlie  clear  bright 
look,  and  she  was  dull  too.  It  spoiled  her  temper, 
and  made  her  peevish  and  ill-natured,  and  the  fel- 
lows did  not  take  to  her  at  all ;  and  she  got  un- 
happy, and  that  made  it  all  worse  ;  and  she  was  just 
on  the  edge  of  the  old-maid  part  of  life — " 

"  Why,  I  know  forty  gals  just  like  that,"  said 
Massachusetts. 

"  What  was  her  name  ?"  said  Rhode  Island. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Pat,  "  I  would  have  been 
discreet  and  not  named  any  names,  for  family  rea- 
sons ;  but  it  was  Corianda. 

"  But  to  go  on.  Just  at  that  most  dangerous  part 
of  her  life,  he  came — " 

"Who?" 

"Alonzo." 

"  Three  cheers  for  Lonz !"  said  Vermont. 

"  And  he  fell  in  love  with  her.  It  may  appear 
unreasonable.  He  was  handsome,  jovial,  pleasant, 
and  might  have  had  any  girl  he  wanted.  He  was  a 
good  mixture.  He  was  dainty,  a  little,  and  liked  to 
dance  with  the  girls  ;  but  he  could  take  things  rough- 
and-tumble  wdth  the  boys  as  good  as  any  of  them. 
He  was  full  of  good-humor  and  good-nature,  and 
wherever  he  was  it  was  lively.  And  he  was  the 
fellow  that  fell  dead  in  love  with  Corianda.  At 
first  she  didn't  believe  it.  She  thought  he  was  fool- 
ing. It  seemed  impossible  that  he  should  come,  as 
you  might  say,  out  of  his  element  of  gay  and  daz- 
zling life  into  her  dull  world,  to  fall  in  love  with  her. 
But  ho  did,  and  she  soon  understood  it ;  and  when 


ALONZO  AND   CORIANDA.  237 

she  understood  it,  it  made  a  great  difference  in  lier. 
She  fell  in  love  too ;  and  her  little  soul  lived  in  gar- 
dens of  delight.  And  the  effect  this  pleasure  had 
upon  her,  the  change  it  made  in  her  soul,  began  to 
show  in  her  face,  and  she  began  to  be  hand- 
some." 

"  JS'ow  that's  tough  to  take  in,"  said  Massachu- 
setts. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Troubadour,  "  she  grew  to  be 
handsome.  So  many  happy  thoughts,  so.  many 
dainty  impressions  and  delicious  emotions,  came 
upon  her,  that,  as  all  these  sparkled  in  her  eyes  and 
glowed  in  her  face,  they  made  her  beautiful.  You 
never  thought  of  the  freckles  as  you  looked  at  her ; 
you  couldn't  see  them.  They  were  dazzled  out  of 
sight.  And  love,  conquering  all  difficulties,  cast 
a  sheen  of  glory  about  him  that  compelled  all  eyes 
to  rest  upon  that  lovely  little  face." 

"Tliat's  very  pretty,"  said  Kliode  Island.  "I 
like  a  little  hifalutin." 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  the  Troubadour,  ^*  take  it  for 
a  fact  that  Corianda  became  a  perfect  little  beauty 
under  the  influence  of  a  lover's  eyes.  Beauty 
bloomed  all  over  her,  just  as  roses  bloom  in  a  gar- 
den when  the  rose-bushes  feel  that  the  summer  has 
come.  Why  it  was,  I  don't  know.  Why  a  plain 
little  gal  should  become  handsome  because  a  fellow 
falls  in  love  is  a  mystery  to  me ;  but  it  is  true,  and 
it's  an  important  point  in  this  story." 

"  Well,  I  think  I  know  how  that  is,"  said  Ehode 
Island. 


238  *'AS   WE   WENT  MAKCHING    ON." 

"Well,  liow?"  said  the  Troubadour. 

"  Don't  you  know  how  the  dogwood-leaves  are  in 
the  woods,  now  that  they're  changing — what  a  dull 
dry  kind  of  red  color  they  have  ?  But  if  you  get 
them  so  that  the  sun  shines  through  them,  every  one 
looks  like  a  spot  in  a  painted  glass  window,  or  like  a 
glass,  of  wine.  It's  the  glory  that  comes  through  ; 
and  I  suppose  when  anybody  loves  another  person, 
it  makes  a  sunshine  around  them  and  through  them 
like  that." 

"  Mebbe  that's  it,"  said  the  Troubadour ;  "  I  never 
thought  of  it  that  way.  But  Corianda  became  the 
rage  with  all  the  boys  and  men.  Everybody  courted 
her  now,  and  plenty  wanted  to  marry  her,  especially 
crowds  of  rich  fellows.  She  got  fearful  proud  of 
her  beauty  too,  and  the  way  she  pushed  all  the 
other  girls  into  the  corner  was  a  caution.  She  was 
vain  and  was  happy. 

"But  of  course  she  didn't  know  what  it  was  that 
made  her  handsome.  She  didn't  know  that  it  was 
the  spell  of  Alonzo's  love ;  and  so  when  the  crowd 
came,  she  only  counted  Alonzo  as  one  of  them,  and 
flirted  with  them  all.  Women,  ye  see,  don't  always 
understand  the  secrets  of  their  destiny,  especially 
when  a  little  vanity  throws  dust  in  their  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  I  didn't  tell  you  that  Alonzo  wasn't 
very  rich  himself,"  said  Pat. 

"No,  you  didn't,"  said  Vermont. 

"But  we  understood  it,"  said  Massachusetts, 
"  because  we  saw  right  away  that  you  was  Alonzo." 

"Which  I  am  not,"  said  Pat.     "This  isn't  any 


ALONZO   AND   CORIANDA.  239 

narrative  of  personal  experiences ;  and  if  it  was,  tliat 
wouldn't  be  fair  because  it  would  only  give  one 
side  of  the  story,  and  might  do  injustice  to  the 
girl." 

"Musn't  have  any  injustice  to  the  girl,"  said 
Rhode  Island. 

"Altliongh  Corianda  was  happier  with  Alonzo 
than  with  all  the  others  together,  she  seemed  not 
to  know  it ;  indeed  the  happiness  that  he  caused  her 
stayed  with  her  so  much  that  it  was  still  with  her 
when  she  was  with  the  others,  and  she  did  not  no- 
tice where  it  came  from.  Maybe  you've  seen  one 
of  those  things  they  put  in  shop-windows  which  is 
like  a  bowl  turned  on  the  side  with  pieces  of  look- 
ing-glass fitted  in  it  all  arouud,  and  a  candle  at  the 
bottom,  so  that  when  the  bowl  turns  around  you 
see  that  lighted  candle  reflected  in  all  the  little 
looking-glasses.  There  is  only  one  real  candle,  but 
you  can't  tell  where  it  is  ;  you  can  hardly  make  out 
at  what  point  burns  the  flame  that  you  see  reflected 
on  every  side.  That  was  the  way  with  Corianda's 
life ;  there  was  so  much  love  all  around  her  that  she 
got  mixed  as  to  where  the  real  flame  was. 

"Therefore,  when  the  richest  of  all  the  crowd 
wanted  to  marry  her,  and  her  friends  flxed  it  all  up, 
she  went  through  the  ceremony  just  as  if  it  was  a 
dress-parade,  and  married  old  Spondulics." 

"  What !  she  married  the  other  fellow  ?"  said 
Massachusetts. 

"  Yes." 

"She  shook  Lonz?"  said  Vermont. 


240  ''AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

"  She  did." 

"  I'm  soriy,"  said  Ehode  Island ;  *'  I  liked  him 
myself.  I  always  liked  those  bright  fellows  that 
make  things  gay.     How  did  he  take  it  ?" 

"  You  fellows  are  all  too  fresh,"  said  Massachu- 
setts. "Wait  till  you  come  to  the  ret-ter-ri-bew- 
shun." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Troubadour,  "  there  was  plenty  of 
retribution ;  for  as  soon  as  this  happened,  Alonzo 
was  not  at  the  party  any  more,  and  therefore  Corian- 
da's  beauty  began  to  fade  ;  and  her  life  was  dull,  and 
she  became  just  as  plain  and  common  a  little  woman 
as  she  had  been  a  little  gal.  She  went  out  of  the 
grand  ball-room  of  life  into  the  cold  lonely  corner 
where  there's  only  a  smoky  lamp  and  the  gardener's 
tools." 

"  Served  her  right,"  said  Vermont ;  "  and  shows 
that  justice  is  bound  to  be  done." 

"But  it  is  a  fairy-story  after  all,"  said  Ehode 
Island.  "  She  was  rich  now,  though,  if  she  wasn't 
handsome." 

"And  that's  a  point,"  said  Massachusetts. 

"  Yes,  she  was  rich  ;  but  she'd  have  given  all  the 
money  to  be  handsome  again.  Her  hair  lost  its 
gloss,  and  became  so  dull  that  even  the  second-hand 
hair  men  couldn't  match  it  when  she  wanted  a  new 
chignon.  Her  teeth  fell  out  and  her  cheeks  fell  in, 
and  she  was  a  woe-begone  spectacle.  Even  old 
Spondulics  made  love  to  other  women.  But  one 
day  old  Spondulics  died,  and  when  they  settled  up 
his  accounts  they  found  he  was  busted ;  didn't  leave 


ALONZO  AND   CORIAKDA.  241 

lier  a  cent.     And  there  she  was,  high  and  dry  ;  no 
beauty,  no  money,  and  Alonzo  gone." 

"  What  did  she  do  ?"  said  Yermont. 

"  She  went  into  the  boarding-house  line.  Some 
friends  of  the  family  went  security  for  a  house  and 
furniture  to  give  her  a  start.  She  let  out  some 
rooms  to  lodgers,  and  had  boarders  in  the  others. 
It  was  cheap  style  and  pretty  hard  hoeing,  for  the 
boarders  didn't  always  pay.  But  she  tried  hard  to 
keep  going,  and  primped  herself  up  with  jet  ear- 
rings ;  and  she  wore  her  hair  with  a  bang  and  be- 
gan to  get  fat.  But  she  struggled  on,  for  she  had  one 
hope.  Her  hope  was  that  Alonzo  would  some  day 
come  that  way  and  take  board  ;  and  she  intended  to 
put  him  in  the  second-story  front  room  for  the  same 
price  for  which  she  put  other  fellows  in  the  attic ; 
and  she  thought  that  when  she  should  see  him  she'd 
be  handsome  again,  and  that  he  would  love  her  and 
want  to  marry  her,  and  that  this  time  she  wouldn't 
make  any  mistake  ;  because,  d'ye  see,  by  this  time, 
comparing  how  she  got  handsome  when  he  came 
and  homely  when  he  went,  she  guessed  at  the  truth 
of  it." 

And  here  old  Thirtj^-six  filled  his  pipe,  as  if  he 
were  near  the  end. 

"Well,  did  he  come  ?"  said  Yermont. 

"He  didn't,"  said  Pat.  "Her  preparations  was 
no  use  at  all." 

"  Why  didn't  he  ?"  sympathetically  queried  Little 
Ehody. 

"  Because  there  wasn't  any  more  any  Alonzo." 
16 


242 

This  tragic  declaration  caused  a  great  sensation ; 
and  tlie  ITew- Yorker,  seeing  the  great  impatience  of 
the  others,  went  on  swiftly  with  the  storj. 

"  Ye  see,  as  soon  as  Alonzo  saw  how  things  was 
going  he  went  out  and  bought  five  pounds  of  nitro- 
glycerine, which  explodes  tremendously,  you  know. 
He  had  an  apothecary  mix  it  with  something  till  it 
was  just  like  soft  grease.  Then  he  got  a  paint-brush 
and  painted  himself  all  over  with  it;  and  he  put  on 
his  clothes  very  softly  for  fear  he  might  explode  too 
soon,  and  went  out. 

"  He'd  often  been  bothered  by  those  fellows  that 
sits  in  the  horse-cars  with  their  feet  poked  out  and 
don't  make  room  for  any  one,  and  laugh  if  you 
stumble  over  them,  and  tell  you  that  your  feet  is 
too  big.  He  thought  he'd  fix  some  of  'em.  So  he 
got  into  a  horse-car.  But  everybody  was  as  smooth 
as  old  potheen ;  and  they  made  way  for  him  as  per- 
lite  as  if  they  know'd  what  he  was  up  to. 

"  But  he  sat  down  quietly,  '  For,'  says  he  to  him- 
self, '  somebody'll  come  in  with  a  couple  of  kegs  of 
paint  in  a  minute  and  he'll  slap  'em  down  on  my 
knees,  and  then  the  fun  will  begin ;'  and  he  laughed  a 
little  jolly  laugh  as  he  thought  about  it." 

"  He  was  gone  mad,"  said  Rhode  Island. 

"  But  no  painter  was  around  that  day,  and  there 
didn't  come  into  that  car  not  even  an  old  washer- 
woman with  a  bundle  of  dirty  clothes." 

"  Life  is  full  of  such  disappointments,"  said  Mas- 
sachusetts, who  was  ready  to  rejoice  in  the  ex2)lo- 
sion. 


ALONZO   AND   CORIAKDA.  S43 

"  So  Alonzo  got  out  of  the  car  in  disgust,  and 
went  to  the  ferry,  where  everybody  ahnost  knocks 
you  down  to  get  on  the  boat  first ;  but  everybody 
was  cool  and  slow  and  went  easy  that  time.  Seemed 
as  if  he  couldn't  get  no  brutal  treatment  anywhere. 

"  Just  as  he  was  thinking  of  this,  he  saw  a  cop  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street.  '  Pleeceman's  the  rack- 
et,' he  said ;  '  pleeceman's  sure  for  brutality  every 
time.'  So  he  watched  the  pleeceman,  and  saw  two 
or  three  of  them  get  around  a  gin-mill  at  the 
corner  and  buzz.  He  went  into  that  gin-mill  and 
had  some  gin  and  sugar,  and  put  five  cents  down 
on  the  bar,  softly  like.  But  the  bar-tender  said, 
'  Come,  Johnny,  that  wasn't  no  five-cent  gin.'  Then 
he  give  the  bar-tender  a  little  jaw,  and  that  fellow 
ran  around  the  end  of  the  bar  and  called  the  cops, 
and  said  there  was  a  fellow  there  that  wanted  to 
murder  him. 

"  Then  the  cops  all  rushed  in  with  their  clubs 
ready,  and  the  bar-tender  caught  Alonzo  by  the  col- 
lar, and  every  one  was  getting  a  hold  of  him  some- 
where, and  a-pulling  and  a-hauling,  and  Alonzo 
was  a-laughing  softly,  enjoying  himself. 

"But  there  was  one  pleeceman  that  couldn't  find 
no  place  to  get  hold  ;  and  he  hauled  off  with  his  club 
and  give  Alonzo  one  on  the  head. 

"  Well,  that  fetched  it !  Alonzo,  ye  see,  had  put 
the  stuff  very  thick  in  his  hair.  That  fetched  it. 
He  went  off  with  an  awful  report.  And  them  cops, 
and  the  bar-tender,  and  the  whole  place  was  smashed 
to  smithereens.  They  was  smashed  so  fine  that  they 


244  ''  AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

even  beat  the  coroner,  because  tbej  couldn't  pick 
up  enough  of  them  for  the  coroner  to  sit  on  ;  and 
therefore  there  wasn't  any  inquest. 

"  And  that,"  said  old  Thirty-six,  solemnly,  "  is  the 
end  of  the  history  of  Alonzo  and  Corianda." 

And  the  boys  all  laughed  about  it,  and  critically 
discussed  the  various  points,  and  held  that  it  "  had 
the  bulge"  on  the  Arabian  IS'ights. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   EOAE   OF   BATTLE. 

Some  of  the  fellows  were  on  foot  from  time  to 
time  all  tlirougli  the  night  and  fed  the  fire ;  so  that 
when  Yermont  went  at  it  in  the  gray  and  foggy 
dawn  to  get  ready  for  an  early  start,  there  was  a 
blaze  in  no  time;  and  as  the  persistent  activity  of 
one  moved  all,  there  were  soon  four  cups  on  the  fire, 
and  coffee  was  made,  and  they  had  a  comfortable 
breakfast. 

They  had  scarcely  got  through  with  this  when 
they  were  all  brought  to  their  feet  by  a  sudden 
tremendous  outburst  of  "firing,  so  near  and  so  loud 
that  it  seemed  all  around  them. 

Now,  the  sound  that  thus  disturbed  our  friends 
about  the  bivouac-fire  was  that  historic  noise,  "  the 
roar  of  battle ;"  and  as  the  reader  may  never  have 
heard  that  noise,  and  as  it  is  often  mentioned  but 
seldom  described,  it  may  not  be  unprofitable  to 
endeavor  to  give  an  impression  of  its  nature  and 
peculiarities. 

Battle,  let  it  be  understood,  roars,  not  with  one 
vocal  organ,  but  with  many  organs,  or  indeed  with 
many  thousand  organs.  It  has  more  carnivorous 
throats  than  all  the  jungles  in  India.  There  may  be 
a  hundred  thousand  rifles,  each  one  of  which  alone 


246 

has  a  peremptory  voice,  trivial  enough  in  itself ;  but 
when  these  staccato  tones  follow  so  rapidly  that  they 
are  blended  as  drops  of  water  in  the  noise  of  the 
rain,  the  muzzles  that  deliver  them  become  practi- 
cally innumerable.  And  there  may  be  the  mouths 
of  fiv^e  hundred  cannon  ;  and  the  mouths  of  frantic 
horses,  torn  to  ribbons  with  shot  and  shell;  and  the 
mouths  of  bugles  that  stir  the  blood  of  the  fellows 
who  are  there,  and  of  the  fellows  who  are  coming 
up.  And  there  are  many  mouths  of  men  as  the  line 
of  battle  advances,  or  as  the  boys  are  sent  to  storm 
the  hill  and  get  the  enemy's  battery. 

Therefore  the  roar  of  battle  is  an  agglomeration 
of  various  noises  mingled  at  different  times  in  dif- 
ferent proportions. 

But  the  natural  order  of  the  noises  is  this : 
Perhaps  during  the  day  an  occasional  spurt  of 
cannonading  lins  wakened  the  far-away  echoes,  as 
the  first  muttering  thunder  does  an  hour  before  the 
storm ;  and  then  there  is  perhaps  an  hour  or  two 
or  three  of  silence,  and  suddenly  away  at  the  front 
is  heard — one  rifle-shot !  And  then  another  rifle- 
shot !  Another  and  another !  And  then  rifle-shots 
follow  as  if  they  ran  up  and  down  a  gamut :  tap, 
tap,  tap — slip,  slap — bang — rattlety -crack !  And  so 
until  from  a  dropping  fire  of  one  or  two  shots  in 
a  second  it  increases  until  it  becomes  nearly  con- 
tinuous, but  keeps  light — as  the  drops  of  a  summer 
shower  that  patter  on  the  green  leaves,  rather  than  as 
the  pounding  flood  of  the  autumn  storm  that  comes 
upon  the  house-top.    It  is  like  the  first  tremulous 


THE   ROAR   OF   BATTLE.  247 

venture  of  the  voice  trying  its  scales,  or  like  the  tun- 
ing up  that  comes  before  the  concert. 

E'ow,  this  noise  means  that  the  pickets  away  out 
in  front,  or  on  one  of  the  flanks,  have  seen  the 
enemy,  and  that  the  enemy  is  behaving  himself  in 
a  way  that  needs  attention  ;  that  he  is  coming  on  in 
line  through  the  woods  or  across  the  plain,  or  is 
getting  the  abatis  out  of  the  way. 

Then  tliere  is  a  bugle-call,  clear  and  high,  and  the 
fire  ceases. 

Major  Thundereye,  in  command  of  the  main 
guard  on  that  part  of  the  front,  has  jumped  to  his 
feet  at  the  first  shot,  and  from  his  coign  of  vantage 
has  taken  a  cool  look  at  the  enemy,  and  has  seen  thab- 
the  enemy  means  it ;  has  made  out  that  the  dirty 
gray  line  of  infantry  stretches  away  to  his  left  and 
right;  that  it  is  an  advance  in  force;  that  the  big 
dirty  pocket-handkerchiefs  with  diagonal  crosses  on 
them  which  the  enemy  calls  battle-flags  are  in  the 
air,  and  that  it  is  no  use  for  him  to  waste  time  with 
his  boys  on  the  first  line. 

Hence  his  bugle-note  orders  them  to  retire  upon 
their  supports ;  and  at  the  same  instant  an  orderly 
dashes  away  rearward  from  that  post  to  tell  Thun- 
dereye's  commanding  officer  in  the  rear  what  Thun- 
dereye has  seen. 

But  the  respite  will  be  short,  for  the  pickets  have 
not  far  to  go,  and  the  enemy  comes  on. 

And  now  there  is  a  rapid  firing  of  cannon  far 
away  in  front,  and  a  screaming  of  shells  in  the  air, 
and  a  bursting  of  shells  behind  our  line ;  for  the 


248 

enemy,  learning  by  our  fire  that  liis  movement  is 
observed,  comprehends  that  there  is  no  surprise  in 
it,  and  begins  to  shell  our  position  in  the  hope  to 
distract  our  attention  and  so  help  the  advance  of  his 
infantry.  At  the  same  moment  one  of  our  batteries 
far  away  to  the  left  sights  the  enemy's  line  as  it 
reaches  a  clear  point,  and  opens  lipon  it ;  and  this 
mutual  attention,  and  the  noisy  flight  of  shells  and 
their  explosion  just  over  one's  head,  keep  things  from 
becoming  altogether  dull. 

But  now  the  enemy  is  up  to  where  he  is  fairly 
under  fire  from  Major  Thunderej^e's  line,  which  is 
well  advanced  beyond  the  point  at  which  the  general 
means  to  fight,  and  word  has  been  sent  to  Thunder- 
eye  to  hold  the  enemy  a  little  and  give  a  chance  to 
get  the  whole  force  in  shape. 

Thundereye  does  what  he  can,  and  the  air  vi- 
brates with  the  close  rattle  of  a  steady  file-fire — a 
sound  that  snaps  and  seems  about  to  stop,  but  goes 
on ;  that  tears  away  for  ten  minutes,  and  stops  the 
enemy  and  then  tears  away  again,  and  at  last  ceases 
altogether. 

Thundereye  finds  that  he  has  done  all  he  can,  and 
comes  in  slowly. 

And  now  there  is  a  real  intermission.  Our  con- 
siderate enemy  is  taking  a  long  look  at  us.  In  front 
of  Thundereye  he  has  reached  a  point  at  which  his 
serious  attempt  begins.  Down  to  his  left  or  to  his 
right  they  had  not  advanced  so  far.  He  must  wait 
till  they  get  up  even  and  complete  his  line ;  and  he 


THE  ROAR  OF  BATTLE.  249 

waits.  And  we  all  wait ;  and  some  of  the  boys  even 
make  a  cnp  of  coffee. 

Fellows  in  the  reserve  begin  to  wonder  whether 
it  was  not  a  false  alarm ;  whether  the  enemy  had 
not  simply  made  a  reconnoissance  in  force  to  see 
jnst  where  we  are,  and  is  not  now  getting  away 
again. 

"  It's  all  over,"  says  one  teamster  to  another. 

"No,  'tain't,  pardner,"  says  the  other;  "it's  too 
still." 

And  just  as  these  doubts  are  floating  in  men's 
minds,  the  canopy  of  heaven  seems  to  be  rent  asunder 
with  the  roar  that  suddenly  arises,  for  the  enemy 
has  started  forward,  and  a  very  little  movement  has 
brought  him  into  the  field  of  fire  of  all  our  batteries 
placed  to  dispute  his  advance ;  they  have  all  got  the 
range,  and  they  all  open.  "Cannon  to  right  of 
them,  cannon  to  left  of  them ;"  cannon  over  the  hill, 
cannon  on  the  other  side  the  river,  cannon  down 
the  road,  cannon  hidden  in  the  woods  and  firing  over 
the  roof  of  the  stone  house  yonder ;  and  twenty  or 
thirty  cannon  blazing  right  in  their  faces  with  grape 
and  canister ;  cannon  so  near  that  they  fancy  they 
can  touch  them — though  when  they  get  where  they 
would  touch  them,  the  few  that  are  left  of  the  line 
find  it  maybe  twenty  yards  of  an  impassable  morass 
between. 

And  all  the  cannon  are  banging  away  at  once,  so 
that  it  is  a  nearly  continuous  sound ;  and  the  air  vi- 
brates with  the  ring  of  the  brass  and  the  steel,  and 
you  cannot  tell  whether  the  shell  that  bursts  within 


250 

a  yard  of  your  head  is  not  another  cannon  coming 
into  action  in  front  of  3'ou  or  down  the  road.  Al- 
together it  is  a  glorious  row. 

But  all  this  that  is  merely  the  voice  of  cannon 
you  have  heard  before:  you  may  hear  it  often 
enough  in  the  salvoes  of  days  of  glorification  in 
times  of  peace,  though  perhaps  rather  less  of  it  at 
once.  There  is  another  noise  peculiar  to  battle,  that 
you  do  not  hear  except  in  battle — a  strange, startling, 
unearthly  note.  Tliis  is  the  flight  of  a  shell  through 
the  air.  It  is  one  of  the  odd  contradictions  of 
speech  that  though  we  say  the  shell  flies,  yet  if  one 
is  particularly  noisy  it  is  on  account  of  a  bad  shoe. 
Any  shell  makes  noise  enough,  and  the  passage 
of  one  through  the  air  affects  the  unaccustomed 
thought  w^ith  consternation ;  yet  there  is  a  constant 
tone  and  a  harmony  in  it  while  the  shoe  is  right. 
The  shoe  is  that  band  of  lead  or  other  soft  metal 
that  enables  the  shell  to  take  the  grooves  of  the 
cannon ;  and  when  that  is  lialf  torn  off,  the  eccen- 
tric way  in  wliich  it  cuts  the  air  gives  to  the  voice 
of  this  bird  of  battle  some  altogether  horrible  varia- 
tions. 

But  the  most  carnivorous  note  has  yet  to  come. 

There  were  twenty  or  thirty  cannon  blazing  in  the 
very  faces  of  the  enemy,  who,  as  we  said,  thought 
they  could  touch  them,  and  suddenly  found  an  im- 
passable morass  between.  "Well,  the  morass  was 
not  impassable.  The  enemy's  line  with  bayonets 
fixed  rushed  fair  at  the  guns :  and  the  brigade  in 
front  of   the   guns   just   melted  away  in  the  fire. 


THE   ROAR   OF   BxVTTLE.  251 

Half  of  them  are  dead  or  dying  in  the  morass ;  two 
or  three  score  are  stuck  there  and  can  get  neither 
one  way  nor  the  other,  and  about  a  hundred  have 
struggled  through  and  are  lying  flat  on  their  faces 
on  our  side  the  wet  ground,  almost  under  the 
muzzles  of  the  guns,  but  hidden  by  the  heavy  screen 
of  dense  w^hite  smoke  that  is  accumulated  in  front 
of  the  pieces. 

And  now  a  part  of  the  enemy's  line  that  w^as  not 
in  front  of  the  guns  have  got  through  the  bad  ground 
more  successfully,  and,  wheeling  to  right  and  left 
respectively,  are  charging  down  upon  the  pieces, 
while  the  fellows  there  under  the  muzzles  are  lying 
ready  to  jump  up  and  take  a  hand  in  at  the  right 
moment. 

In  such  a  case  the  battery  is  helpless  if  it  is  alone. 
But  behold !  it  is  not  alone.  Lying  down  at  just  a 
handy  distance  behind  it  are  two  fresh  regiments  of 
our  own  infantry,  placed  there  to  support  the  guns ; 
and  as  the  rebs  rush  upon  the  guns  with  a  yell  of 
triumph,  their  yell  is  turned  to  the  demoniac  wail 
of  defeat  and  death,  for  the  regiments  are  up  and 
pouring  into  the  heap  of  the  enemy  their  close  file- 
fire. 

This  gives  that  rapid,  close-packed,  continuous 
sound  that  is  the  real  familiar,  personal  voice  of 
the  srod  of  war — the  sound  that  soothes  the  souls  of 
heroes  to  the  eternal  sleep ;  the  real  death-rattle  of 
hostile  armies. 

With  an  empty  barrel  and  some  packs  of  squibs 
one  may  mimic  this  sound  about  as  it  is  heard  a 


252  "AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON.'' 

mile  away ;  but  if  a  fellow  wants  to  know  how  it 
sounds  when  it  is  fired  fair  in  his  face,  he  must  go 
and  listen.     Nobody  can  tell  him. 

But  the  rebs'  attempt  at  the  guns  is  pretty  well 
dusted  up  by  the  file-fire,  yet  they  keep  coming ; 
and  the  fellows  that  lay  down  awhile  in  front  of  the 
pieces  are  among  the  guns,  and  the  battery-men  are 
fighting  with  clubbed  rammers.  Then  a  bugle-note 
sounds  "  Cease  firing,"  the  word  passes  "  Fix  bay- 
onets," there  is  a  musical  jingle  of  blue  steel  against 
steel  up  and  down  the  line  with  a  suppressed  cheer, 
and  in  another  instant  away  goes  the  line,  and  the  rebel 
attempt  in  that  part  of  the  battle  disappears  as  the  tall 
stems  in  the  cornfield  go  down  where  the  cyclone 
strikes.  One  cannot  tell  whether  it  was  the  bayonets 
or  the  hurrah  that  did  it.  Generally  it  is  the  hur- 
rah; but  the  hurrah  wouldn't  count  if  those  who 
hear  it  did  not  know  that  the  bayonets  were  there. 

Now,  these  are  the  separate  elements  of  the  roar 
of  battle  ;  and  their  parts  follow,  not  in  an  ordinary 
sequence,  but  as  the  parts  follow  in  a  fugue,  each 
adding  its  own  notes  to  the  already-gathered-up 
accumulation  of  other  notes.  And  when  this  row 
tears  up  through  the  tranquil  atmosphere,  the 
shivered  air  seems  alive  to  a  conscious  horror ;  the 
sun  trembles  in  the  heavens;  the  hushed  winds 
scoot  quietly  away  down  the  remote  gulches ;  the 
women  and  the  old  men  in  the  villages  near  gather 
up  their  little  ones  and  fly,  and  the  soldiers  on  the 
march  shut  their  mouths  and  go  forward  as  if  there 
were  no  time  to  be  lost  in  gabble. 


THE   ROAR  OF  BATTLE.  253 

Our  friends  did  not  kear  on  this  occasion  what 
may  be  called  the  prelude  to  the  grand  roar,  because 
there  was  none.  This  battle  broke  into  a  full  diapa- 
son, as  if  it  began  in  the  middle :  which  in  fact  it 
did.     And  we  shall  now  see  how  that  came  about. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  AND  GLEAMS  OF  GLORY  BEIGHTENED  ALL  THE  DAY." 

Cedak  Creek's  devious  course  is  inadequately 
pictured  wlien  you  call  it  a  crooked  stream ;  for  the 
descriptive  effect  of  the  word  crooked  is  unequal  to 
the  requirements  of  the  occasion.  Perhaps  a  piece 
of  badly-snarled  twine  laid  down  in  a  general  direc- 
tion of  northwest  and  southeast  would  come  as 
near  to  a  good  map  of  that  stream  as  anything  you 
could  make.  At  the  northwest  end  it  comes  out 
of  the  I^orth  Mountains;  at  the  other  or  lower 
end  it  falls  into  the  north  fork  of  the  Shenandoah 
Piver,  and  the  ^North  Fork  at  that  point  runs  a  little 
north  of  east,  so  that  these  two  streams  inclose  a 
wedge-shaped  piece  of  country,  with  the  point  of 
the  wedge  to  the  south,  in  which  our  boys  were 
encamped — about  forty  thousand  of  them. 

It  is  a  rough  bit  of  country,  too,  for  the  stream 
runs  in  a  deep  bed  the  sides  of  which  are  high,  pre- 
cipitous at  some  points;  and  the  inclosed  wedge, 
the  region  occupied  by  our  fellows,  is  cut  by  small 
streams  that  run  into  Cedar  Creek,  and  a  part  of  it 
is  thickly  wooded.      But   there   are   open    places, 


fields  with  stone  walls  and  rail-fences,  and  the  whole 


is  intersected  in  a  nearly  north  and  south  direction  by 


GLEAMS   OF   GLORY.  255 

a  turnpike  road  which  crosses  Cedar  Creek  by  the 
bridge  at  a  place  about  two  miles  from  where  the 
run  falls  into  the  ]^orth  Fork,  and  consequently 
west  of  the  point  of  the  wedge.  On  this  road,  near 
the  middle  of  the  wedge,  is  Middletown. 

At  the  point  of  the  wedge  part  of  the  Eighth 
Corps  held  a  fortified  position.  In  a  line  precisely 
behind  that  position,  but  a  mile  or  more  to  the  rear, 
was  the  remainder  of  the  corps,  and  these  were  all 
east  of  the  turnpike.  On  the  other  side  of  the  pike, 
— ^west  of  it,  that  is, — and  in  the  point  of  another 
wedge  made  by  the  line  of  Cedar  Run  and  the  turn- 
pike, was  the  IN^ineteenth  Corps.  It  was  about 
opposite — in  an  east  and  west  sense — ^the  rear  divi- 
sion of  the  Eighth  Corps.  Behind  the  Nineteenth, 
again, — north  and  west  of  it,  that  is  to  say, — was  the 
Sixth  Corps ;  and  far  away  to  the  northwest,  on  our 
extreme  right,  was  nearly  all  the  cavalry :  though 
there  was  cavalry,  also,  far  out  on  the  left — too  far 
out,  in  fact. 

And  so  placed,  our  boys  were  caught  napping. 

How  in  the  world  were  we  surprised  that  day  ? 

If  there  ever  was  a  time  when  an  army  was  pecu- 
liarly on  the  alert  with  regard  to  the  enemy,  it  was 
then ;  for  we  had  made  a  reconnoissance  to  the 
front  the  day  before,  and,  as  the  report  was  not 
satisfactory,  another  reconnoissance  was  ordered  for 
that  day,  and  the  command  that  was  to  make  it  was 
actually  under  arms  when  the  battle  began — luckily 
enough  for  us. 

Our  front  was  carefully  picketed  all  along  the 


25G 

line  of  Cedar  Creek  to  the  junction  with  the  North 
Fork  of  the  Shenandoah,  and  all  along  the  North 
Fork  to  the  main  stream  ;  and  out  there,  somewhere, 
we  had  a  post  of  cavalry.  Yet  between  that  cavalry 
and  our  camps  the  enemy  got  through  so  cleanly  that 
not  a  shot  was  fired  by  the  pickets.  How  did  it 
happen  ? 

Perhaps  an  old  campaigner  may  be  permitted  to 
guess  at  it  without  exposing  himseK  to  the  charge 
of  telling  tales  ont  of  school.  JSTear  to  every  one  of 
the  points  at  which  the  Secesh  crossed  the  streams 
that  night  there  was  a  house.  It  was  an  October 
night  in  the  mountains,  and  the  air  was  solid,  al- 
most, with  one  of  those  cold  fogs  that  stiffen  the 
marrow  in  a  man's  bones.  In  such  times  and  in 
such  circumstances  I  have  known  the  boys  to  gather 
about  the  fire  in  the  house,  and  forget  that  their 
post  was  outside.  And  a  certain  feeling  of  contempt 
for  the  enemy  is  apt  to  encourage  this  delinquency ; 
especially  if  there  is  a  little  whiskey  and  some  of 
the  boys  can  tell  a  story  or  sing  a  good  song. 

How  pleasant  it  is  about  the  fire  on  such  nights ! 
How  nasty  and  lonesome  it  is  outside,  wdth  not  even 
a  hope  that  the  enemy  will  come ! 

But  if  the  enemy  is  alert  and  does  come,  and 
surrounds  the  house  carefully,  he  gets  all  the  boys 
before  they  can  fire  a  shot,  and  behold !  he  is  in- 
side the  picket-line,  and  no  alarm  is  given.  And 
it  is  necessary  only  to  uncover  four  or  five  picket- 
posts  at  each  side  of  the  house  to  make  this  possible ; 
for  of  course  the  fog  helps. 


GLEAMS  OF  GLORY.  257 

It  may  be  that  it  did  not  happen  that  way  ;  but  if 
it  did  not,  it  is  incomprehensible  how  it  came  about 
that,  while  the  turning  force  of  the  enemy  passed 
the  stream  at  three  places,  not  a  shot  was  fired  upon 
the  picket-line  at  any  one  of  those  places. 

But  Johnny  Eeb  always  had  keen  eyes  for  a  good 
place  to  get  in,  and  he  used  them  well  that  time. 
We  did  not  know  he  was  near  us :  nobody  could 
find  him  the  day  before.  But  at  about  2  a.m.  that 
day,  in  the  cold  and  the  fog,  he  started  from  his  hid- 
ing-place at  Fisher's  Hill,  and  marched  as  straight 
to  our  weakest  point  as  if  between  it  and  him  there 
was  some  magnetic  relation.  Kershaw  marched, 
keeping  on  the  west  side  of  the  ]^orth  Fork  of 
the  Shenandoah,  above  the  junction  with  Cedar 
Kun,  to  the  point  of  our  wedge,  reaching  Cedar 
Kun  exactly  in  front  of  that  advanced  position  of 
the  Eighth  Corps  which  was  the  left  of  our  line. 
Gordon,  Kamseur,  and  Pegram  crossed  the  ISTorth 
Fork  near  their  camps,  marched  noiselessly  for  hours 
between  the  heavy-wooded  mountain  and  the  river, 
on  the  southeast  of  the  river,  and  crossed  the  l^orth 
Fork  again  below  the  jimction  of  Cedar  Run  at 
two  places ;  and  being  then  a  good  way  outside  of 
our  left,  but  on  our  side  the  river,  marched  due 
north  to  be  developed  on  our  rear.  All  marched 
silently.  Their  very  canteens  were  left  behind,  be- 
cause the  canteen  is  a  musical  instrument,  and  the 
jingle  of  it  against  the  steel  shoulder  of  a  bayonet, 
or  other  metallic  part  of  the  accoutrement,  is  a  sound 
a  soldier  will  hear  very  far — especially  a  thirsty 
17 


258  ''AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

soldier.  Canteens  are  covered  with  cloth  perhaps 
to  prevent  this  jingle.  But  the  cloth  cover  of  this 
useful  article  is  the  first  thing  about  it  to  give  out 
— except,  of  course,  the  contents. 

Another  part  of  the  rebel  army  was  moved  against 
our  front,  to  be  put  across  the  bridge  on  the  turnpike 
when  the  fellows  first  named  should  open  the  way. 

And  all  that  time  our  boys  in  camp  slept  the 
sleep  of  men  with  clear  consciences.  This  beautiful 
plan  was  manoeuvred  without  the  least  derangement ; 
and  these  children  of  the  mist  gathered  all  about  us, 
ready  to  strike,  at  the  signal,  a  blow  that  might 
crush  almost  any  army.  And  not  the  faintest  sign  of 
it  was  seen  or  heard  inside  our  lines. 

Well,  it  was  a  pretty  good  test  of  our  fellows,  as 
it  would  be  of  any  soldiers  in  the  world,  for  them 
to  win  a  battle  that  began  in  that  way. 

Kershaw  hit  first.  At  the  given  moment  his 
men  arose  out  of  the  mist,  dawning  like  supernat- 
ural figures  upon  the  vision  of  the  sentinels  at  that 
advanced  post  in  the  point  of  the  wedge ;  and  almost 
before  the  guard  could  fire,  Kershaw's  whole  line 
poked  the  muzzles  of  their  pieces  over  the  parapet, 
delivered  a  volley,  and  swarmed  in.  It  was  like 
snapping  your  finger  and  the  place  was  gone.  There 
was  no  fighting.  Many  jumped  from  their  sleep 
to  be  killed  or  captured  before  their  eyes  were 
well  oyjen,  and  many  tumbled  away  to  the  rear  and 
ralhed  at  the  next  position. 

JSTow,  that  first  position  so  completely  surprised 
was  held  by  one  division  of  the  Eighth  Corps  ;  but 
between  that  and  the  camp  of  the  other  part  of  that 


GLEAMS  OF  GLORY.  259 

corps  there  was  a  rough,  steep  ravine  with  a  stream 
at  the  bottom,  and  a  distance  of  over  a  mile ;  and 
Kershaw  did  not  make  that  mile  in  the  winking  of 
an  eye,  while  the  firing  that  he  indulged  in  brought 
the  whole  camp  to  its  feet.  Consequently  there 
was  chance  for  a  Kttle  preparation.  The  other  di- 
visions of  the  Eighth  were  drawn  up.  Two  regi- 
ments of  the  Mneteenth  which  were  actually  on 
foot  intending  to  make  that  reconnoissance  were  sent 
over  to  them,  and  they  would  have  taken  care  of 
Kershaw  well  enough. 

But  then  came  the  terrible  second  surprise. 

Straight  through  the  woods,  from  the  east  this 
time,  comes  a  butternut  line  of  tough  old  fighters 
who  claim  that  they  have  never  been  beaten  ;  that 
through  all  the  desperate  battles  in  Virginia,  and 
all  the  way  up  to  Antietam  and  again  up  to  Gettys- 
burg, they  have  done  their  share  and  mostly  had 
their  way,  and  that  they  have  got  the  habit  of  it. 
They  raise  that  starthng  yell  which  the  men  of  the 
South  and  West  seem  to  have  accepted  from  the 
Indians,  as  different  from  the  hoarse,  chest-voice 
hurrah  of  our  Northern  fellows  as  if  it  were  the 
cry  of  another  animal.     They  yell  and  come  on. 

This  is  Gordon,  who  had  gone  through  the  woods 
far  to  our  left,  and  had  been  helped  in  his  secrecy 
by  all  the  noise  that  Kershaw  had  made.  Now  he 
strikes  like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  left  of  the  line 
that  had  been  so  hastily  prepared  to  face  Kershaw, 
and  then  away  goes  that  line  also ;  for  as  it  looked  to- 
ward Kershaw,  Gordon  came  upon  its  rear.  So  the 
Eighth  Corps  is  smashed,  and  Kershaw,  Gordon, 


260  ''  AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING   ON." 

Ramseur,  and  Pegram  are  all  on  the  rear  of  tlie 
Nineteenth  Corps,  while  the  other  rebel  command 
sonth  of  Cedar  Run  is  assaulting  the  front  of  the 
same  gallant  corps :  all  of  which  is  more  than  the 
Nineteenth  Corps  can  stand,  and  it  goes  away ;  but 
it  does  not  go  to  pieces.  And  then  the  rebs  rush 
forward  to  grasp  the  fruits  of  victory. 

But  they  do  not  go  far.  They  stop  suddenly. 
The  Sixth  Corps  was  the  next  thing  they  saw,  and 
they  saw  it  as  the  prophet  saw  a  vision — "  with  the 
face  of  a  lion  on  the  right  side."  We  used  to  call 
it  the  Supreme  Court,  because  it  gave  a  final  deci- 
sion on  doubtful  points.  It  was  now  prepared  to 
hear  argument ;  and  Jubal  Early  discovered  that  the 
fun  was  just  beginning.  He  has  observed  some- 
where, touching  this  part  of  the  proceedings,  that 
"  the  Sixth  Corps  was  able  to  take  position  so  as  to 
arrest  our  progress."     That  was  the  way  of  it. 

And  this  was  the  point  at  which  what  may  fairly 
be  called  the  battle  really  began ;  this  was  the  sol- 
diers' part  of  it,  on  our  side  at  least ;  for  all  before 
had  been  well  contrived  by  the  rebel  commanders 
to  put  their  fellows,  without  a  fight,  where  we  met 
them  now. 

Bounced  out  without  their  boots,  at  daylight,  our 
fellows  had  found  themselves  in  action  before  their 
eyes  were  open ;  and  endeavoring,  as  good  soldiers 
will,  to  get  to  their  places,  they  had  discovered  that 
the  parade  was  already  behind  the  enemy's  line. 
Thus  they  did  not  lose  a  battle :  they  were  stam- 
peded without  a  stroke. 


GLEAMS   OF  GLORY.  261 

Conseqaeiitlj  the  fight  began  when  the  enemy, 
ha\ang  swept  through  all  that  first  zone  of  the 
field,  first  felt  bejond  it  that  well-formed  line  of 
which  the  heart  and  soul  and  the  best  part  of  the 
body  was  the  old  Sixth  Corps. 

As  when  some  enormous  tide  of  the  deep  sweeps 
toward  the  shore  with  the  impulse  of  the  ocean,  it 
carries  before  it  all  the  wreckage  of  all  the  ships  in 
its  way,  and  lifts  and  drives  like  autumn-leaves 
squadrons  of  fisher- craft  or  fleets  of  frigates,  and 
meets  no  effective  obstacle  till  it  comes  to  the  well- 
anchored  edges  of  the  steady  hills  :  so  that  tem- 
pestuous, storming,  well-nigh  irresistible  rush  of  old 
Early's  men  swept  unstayed  across  the  field  till  it 
came  to  where  those  fellows  stood  with  Grecian 
crosses  on  their  hats — and  tlien  there  was  a  fight. 
And  a  good  figlit  it  was;  a  tongh,  stubborn,  per- 
sistent fight,  in  wliich  the  enemy  came  and  was 
welcome,  and  went  and  was  followed;  a  fight 
through  obstinate  hours,  in  whicli  a  little  advantage 
gained  at  one  point  was  balanced  by  an  equal  advan- 
tage at  another — and  many  little  advantages  gained 
liere  and  there  were  suddenly  lost  by  a  great  stroke 
that  told  at  some  tactical  point.  It  was  morally,  at 
this  stage,  such  a  fight  as  when  two  well-matched 
bulls  tug  and  push  and  lock  horns  and  labor  until 
it  seems  that  between  them  only  superior  strengtli 
and  stamina  will  determine  the  victory. 

But  now  it  was  broad  daylight ;  and  between  the 
well-risen  sun  and  the  firing,  the  fog  was  dis- 
persed, and  the  fellows  could   sec  what  was  i^oino* 


262 

on.  Indeed  it  now  came  to  be  a  pretty  fair  battle 
face  to  face,  with  some  advantage  in  favor  of  the 
enemy  in  the  demoralization  and  dispersion  of  a 
good  many  of  onr  regiments,  and  the  loss  of  an 
enormous  number  of  guns,  and  the  exaltation  of  the 
feeling  of  victory  in  the  spirit  of  the  foe.  But 
there  was  a  good  long  day  before  us ;  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  quiet  fighting  to  be  done  yet ;  and  the 
enemy  was  getting  used  up,  and  the  temptation  of 
plundering  our  camps  which  were  behind  him  was 
thinning  his  lines.  Our  game  was  to  take  our 
punishment,  give  ground  as  slowly  as  possible,  and 
hold  on.     That  was  our  game,  and  we  played  it. 

Our  line  was  formed  on  a  ridge  running  nearly  the 
same  as  the  pike.  What  was  left  of  the  Nineteenth 
Corps  formed  on  our  right,  and  the  cavalry  coming 
from  everywhere  got  in  on  our  left.  But  those 
rebel  divisions  that  had  gone  outside  of  our  left 
and  through  the  woods  came  at  us  in  good  shape, 
firing  and  yelling ;  and  as  the  Nineteenth  Corps  was 
withdrawn  from  its  camp,  the  way  over  the  bridge 
at  the  turnpike  was  thus  opened  to  the  enemy  oper- 
ating there,  and  comparatively  fresh  men  of  Early's 
force  now  came  that  way  and  brought  with  them  all 
the  rebel  artillery.  That  fresh  force  at  that  place 
took  the  trick.  It  was  seen  after  a  hard  fight  that 
the  place  we  were  in  was  too  hot,  and  other  ground 
was  taken  to  the  rear.  But  there  was  no  running 
away  about  it.     "We  went  as  if  it  was  on  parade. 

If  anybody  imagines  that  we  ran  away  across 
that  field,  he  must  also  imagine  that  we  are  poor 


GLEAMS  OF  GLORY.  263 

runners,  because  we  were  three  hours  making  two 
miles ;  for  that  is  about  the  distance  from  the  point 
where  we  were  first  drawn  up  and  stood  like  a  pro- 
tecting providence,  while  the  stampeded  fellows 
from  the  first  line  rallied  behind  us,  to  that  place  in 
the  rear  at  which  the  enemy  last  came  for  us,  and 
from  which  we  went  for  him. 

Johnny  Reb  followed  as  we  withdrew ;  but  every 
now  and  then  when  he  seemed  to  come  too  near 
we  were  halted  and  gave  him  a  dose,  and  then  went 
on  with  our  movement.  And  so  fighting  from  pillar 
to  post,  we  made  our  way  in  good  order  to  a  piece 
of  ground  about  two  miles  in  rear  of  our  camp, 
where  our  line  was  formed  at  nearly  a  right  angle 
with  the  turnpike.  There  was  marshy  ground  on 
our  left,  and  plenty  of  our  cavalry  outside  of  it,  and 
an  open  space  in  front ;  another  stream  was  on  our 
right,  and  cavalry  outside  of  that.  Early's  men 
could  only  come  in  at  the  front  door  this  time.  They 
had  to  whip  us  out  of  that  or  go  home  in  a  hurry, 
for  our  turn  was  coming.  They  did  not  whip  us,  and 
our  turn  came. 

Up  the  valley  that  day  there  came  wliat  one 
might  call  a  little  comet  in  a  blue  coat.  Away  in 
the  rear  we  heard  some  unusual  noise  in  the  air 
which  made  men  stand  and  listen  to  make  out 
what  it  was.  If  it  had  been  elsewhere,  we  would 
have  said  it  was  cheering ;  but  on  the  road  to  the 
rear  there  were,  we  knew,  miles  of  stragglers,  and 
the  straggler  never  hurrahs,  therefore  it  could  not 
be  tliat ;  yet  as  we  listened  and  the  moments  went 


204  ^'AS   WE   WENT   MARCHING  ON." 

on,  the  sound  became  clearer.  It  was  cheering. 
And  then  what  could  cheering  in  that  direction 
mean  ?  But  the  doubt  was  short ;  for  the  sound 
rose  clearer  and  stronger,  and  suddenly  swept  into 
the  field  itself,  and  the  presence  that  it  announced 
and  welcomed  was  that  of  the  commander  of  the 
army,  Phil  Sheridan. 

ITever  did  the  coming  of  one  man  into  a  battle 
excite  a  more  electrical  enthusiasm,  and  never  was 
enthusiasm  of  more  practical  value  in  war.  At 
best  we  were  holding  the  enemy  at  a  stand-ofi  in 
what  was  for  him  an  indecisive  victory ;  and  that 
enthusiasm  was  the  impulse  under  which  it  was  all 
turned  for  us  to  as  splendid  a  triumph  as  was  ever 
won  by  man  over  an  exulting  foe. 

In  such  a  fight  as  that  was,  the  moment  of 
greatest  danger  for  a  conquering  commander  comes 
just  when  he  has  won  his  battle. 

He  who  through  a  well-contrived  surprise,  or 
through  a  lucky  perception  in  tactics,  or  by  a  charge 
of  irresistible  impetuosity  has  overcome  veteran 
troops  with  an  army  famous  for  the  gallantry  of  its 
onset,  must  tremble  for  his  laurels  at  that  very 
moment  when  the  cheer  of  victory  rings  along  his 
lines,  if  at  that  moment  there  is  still  left  enough  of 
daylight  for  fighting  another  battle. 

And  the  facts  behind  this  truth  are  what  give  oc- 
casion for  that  military  rule  in  virtue  of  which  so 
many  battles  are  fought  late  in  the  afternoon.  If 
you  can  whip  your  enemy  by  nightfall,  and  keep 
liim  w^hipped  overnight,  you  are  safe. 


GLEAMS  OF  GLORY.  265 

On  the  other  hand — Marengo ! 

Because  the  veteran  troops  that  vou  have  driven 
are  -warmest  when  things  are  worst,  and  seem  to 
get  into  figliting  trim  as  things  go  on.  And  as 
tliey  get  waked  up  and  worked  up,  and  just  as 
they  are  in  the  best  mood  for  battle,  comes  the 
moment  of  relaxed  effort  on  the  part  of  the 
victors.  They  are  through  the  line ;  they  hold 
the  dominating  tactical  point  of  the  field.  It 
is  over.  They  stop.  Then  suddenly  the  fatigues 
of  the  marching  and  fighting  come  upon  them. 
Then  they  remember  that  they  were  on  foot  all 
night  the  night  before ;  that  in  marches  and  manoeu- 
vres they  did  great  labors  even  before  the  first  shot 
of  the  battle  w^as  fired,  and  while  the  beaten  foe  was 
taking  his  ease  in  camp.  They  remember  also  that 
they  had  neither  breakfast  nor  dinner.  They  are 
down,  and  the  army  is  like  an  over-labored  giant 
that  a  child  may  cast. 

Then  rises  upon  the  air  a  far-away  cheer.  Then 
the  scattered  random  firing  seems  to  revive  and  to 
become  almost  steady.  Then  a  nearer  cheer  startles 
all  who  hear  it  with  its  peculiar  quality,  and  the  ex- 
hausted conquerors  comprehend  that  the  driven 
veterans  are  coming  again  ;  and  conscious  that  they 
themselves  are  not  equal  to  the  occasion,  they  refuse 
even  to  try ;  demoralization  seizes  upon  them,  and 
away  they  go  toward  that  indefinite  point  of  deg- 
radation and  shame — that  slum  of  the  universe — 
the  rear ! 

That  is  the  moment  when  a  fresh  division  or  even 


266  '^AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

a  fresli  regiment  just  arrived  on  tlie  field  turns  tlie 
scale.  If  what  comes  up  is  a  corps,  there  are  two 
great  battles  and  two  victories  on  the  same  day. 

But  this  time  tliere  was  no  fresh  division,  or 
brigade,  or  regiment ;  there  was  only  one  man,  the 
commander  of  the  army :  but  the  sight  of  that  little 
tough  fellow  in  blue  riding  along  the  lines  was 
worth  two  new  divisions. 

Sheridan  reached  the  field,  gathered  up  the  rib- 
bons of  a  lost  battle,  told  the  boys  it  was  only  an 
accident,  and  showed  them  liow  to  go  ahead.  And 
they  did  it,  and  the  day  was  ours. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ON     THE     FIGnTING-LINE. 

Time  is  perhaps  a  prejudice,  for  wlien  we  are 
thrown  out  of  our  ordinary  ways  of  thinking — 
thrown  out  of  the  sphere  of  common  observation  in 
whicli  the  prejudice  prevails — we  are  entirely  un- 
conscious of  time. 

Nobody  in  a  battle,  for  instance,  can  tell  the 
difference  between  five  minutes  and  five  Lours. 
Upon  one  occasion  an  event  that  passed  in  two 
or  three  minutes  has  made  upon  the  mind  an 
impression  that  would  be  counted  as  equal  to  the 
endurance  of  days  ;  but  oftener  hours  count  only  as 
seconds.  It  recalls  the  legend  of  the  ancient  who 
went  through  the  forest  and  heard  a  bird  singing, 
and  listened  for  five  minutes,  and  found,  when  he  got 
through  the  forest,  that  he  had  lingered  five  years. 
The  notes  of  bullets  on  the  field  of  battle  equally 
charm  away  the  conception  of  time. 

Guessed  at,  however,  and  compared  with  other 
indications,  not  more  than  half  an  hour  could  have 
passed  from  the  moment  the  noise  of  the  battle  first 
startled  our  friends  at  their  bivouac  on  the  mountain- 
side before  every  foot-path  and  by-road  that  led  to- 
ward the  rear  from  our  left  was  filled  with  confused 
fellows  with  their  faces  away  from  the  fire  ;  and 


268 

Imndreds  tliat  did  not  find  foot-paths  wandered 
away  tlirongli  tlie  woods  in  random  directions.  Thej 
were  men  in  all  degrees  of  dilapidation  and  disorder. 
Many  were  barefoot,  most  of  them  hatless  and  coat- 
less,  and  about  half  of  them  without  arms.  They 
were  universally  woe-begone  and  heart-broken. 
Some  were  in  tears,  crying  about  their  regiments. 
None  seemed  troubled  much  about  himself,  but  all 
were  overwhelmed  with  the  sense  of  an  indescribable 
calamity  the  nature,  source,  and  extent  of  which 
their  stunned  faculties  had  not  yet  been  able  to 
grasp.  They  were  *' demoralized "  and  *^cut  to 
pieces." 

Here  and  there  was  a  man  fully  equipped  and  fit 
for  service,  as  if  he  had  been  far  enough  away  from 
where  the  fight  began  to  get  himself  in  shape ;  but, 
as  his  regiment  had  never  been  drawn  up,  was  not 
equal  to  an  individual  resistance.  And  in  fact  a 
good  infantryman  is  good  in  his  place  in  proportion 
as  he  is  useless  elsewhere.  He  is  like  a  bolt  with- 
out which  a  great  machine  is  useless,  but  which 
alone  is  only  an  odd  bit  of  good  metal. 

This  stream  of  humanity  was  encountered  by  our 
little  party  when,  having  made  their  way  across  the 
country  guided  by  the  noise  of  the  battle,  they 
came  upon  a  by-road  about  a  mile  behind  where 
the  battle  was  raging  at  that  moment.  On  this  road, 
almost  as  soon  as  they  reached  it,  the  Irishman 
caught  a  horse  saddled  and  bridled,  and  whose  rider 
had  perhaps  been  killed  in  the  fight.  Him  he 
brought  to  the  Major,  who  mounted  and,  assuming 


ON  THE   FIGHTING-LIKE.  269 

command,  called  upon  the  fellows  near  to  halt  and 
rally  where  they  were.  With  his  comrades  of  the 
night  as  a  nucleus,  it  was  not  difficult  to  gather  a 
force ;  for  the  boys,  though  going  energetically  to 
the  rear,  were  not  whipped.  They  were  only  scat- 
tered ;  and  being  without  orders,  and  not  knowing 
what  else  to  do,  they  were  going,  with  the  common 
instinct  of  soldiers,  toward  a  place  where  it  would 
be  possible  to  form  a  line.  In  five  minutes  the 
Major  had  fifty  good  fellows ;  for,  meeting  in  the 
road  a  gallant-looking  gentleman,  sword  in  hand  and 
well  mounted  and  with  the  shoulder-straps  of  a 
major  of  infantry,  all  who  came  that  way  with  arms 
faced  about  and  went  with  him;  and  when  the 
Major  started  them  forward,  being  pretty  well  ex- 
cited alread}^,  they  made  a  good  deal  of  noise. 

Upon  all  whom  they  met  from  that  point  they 
had  the  appearance  of  a  reinforcement  of  fresh 
men,  and  plenty  of  others  joined  them ;  and 
when  the  Major  got  to  a  point  where  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  fight,  he  had  a  good-sized 
company.  He  called  a  halt  and  deployed  his 
men,  and  rode  forward  through  the  woods  to  see 
what  could  be  done.  He  was  northeast  of  the  vil- 
lage of  Middletown,  beyond  our  broken  left,  and 
outside  the  enemy's  right,  which  had  gained  so  much 
ground  that  it  was  then  going  ahead  on  a  line  at  a 
right  angle  to  his  advance. 

At  about  two  thirds  of  the  way  across  the  distance 
between  Pembroke  and  the  enemy's  extreme  right, 
and  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  was  a  substantial, 


270  ''AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

ancient  stone  house.  This  he  determined  to  seize. 
He  therefore  brought  his  men  up  to  the  edge  of  the 
open  land  in  which  this  house  stood,  formed  a  line 
in  the  cover  of  the  woods,  and  started  forward  in 
good  style,  skirmishers  well  to  the  front,  and  every- 
body cheering,  as  if  the  enemy  could  be  hurrahed 
out  of  what  he  had  already  gained. 

But  those  cheers  and  the  few  shots  the  fellows 
had  a  chance  to  fire  did  make  an  impression ;  for 
the  graycoats,  perceiving  a  newly-developed  force 
upon  their  rear,  gave  way  with  that  superstitious 
readiness  with  which  even  the  best  troops  yield  to 
anything  that  outflanks  them ;  and  before  the 
enemy  had  made  out  the  precise  natm^e  and  purpose 
of  this  rush,  Pembroke  had  his  men  filing  into  that 
stone  house.  It  was  a  neat  and  cool  little  operation, 
and  the  boys  felt  proud  of  it. 

'Now,  the  village  of  Mddletown,  whose  relation 
to  the  field  of  battle  we  have  already  described, 
was  one  of  the  important  stages  upon  the  enemy's 
road  to  victory ;  and  as  his  line  of  battle  was  sweep- 
ing triumphantly  forward  to  seize  the  turnpike  at 
that  important  point,  the  rebel  commander  deemed 
that  it  would  not  be  well  to  leave  in  rear  of  his  ex- 
treme right  some  uncertain  force  in  possession  of 
so  tenable  a  point  of  resistance  as  an  old  stone  farm- 
house. Therefore  he  gave  immediate  attention  to 
the  Major  and  his  boys  ;  and  the  Major  lost  no  time 
in  organizing  things  in  the  farm-house  to  make  it 
hot  for  the  enemy  in  that  neighborhood. 

On  the  ground-floor  there  were  heavy  oaken  shut- 


ON  THE   FIGHTING-LINE.  271 

ters.  From  these  strips  were  torn  with  axes  found 
in  the  house  to  give  issues  for  the  fire,  and  then  the 
shutters  were  barred.  Above,  they  fired  from  the 
open  windows.  Reliefs  for  all  the  points  of  firing 
were  hardly  told  off  before  the  enemy  came  on  in 
line — one  thin  battalion.  This  was  received  with  a 
hot  fire  that  made  it  thinner  yet,  but  did  not  stop  it. 
It  developed  for  the  enemy  the  fact  that  this  house 
was  in  possession  of  an  isolated  force,  and  then 
what  was  left  of  it  went  part  to  the  rear  and  part 
to  cover  behind  a  group  of  timber-sheds  that  stood 
for  stables  or  wood-houses,  from  which  they  began 
to  nick  our  fellows  at  the  windows. 

Scarcely  had  Pembroke  time  to  consider  what  he 
should  do  about  those  fellows  who  had  happened 
on  that  coign  of  vantage,  when  a  shell  exploded 
over  the  house,  and  then  another  and  another. 
Against  his  stronghold  the  enemy  had  already 
turned  one  of  his  own  batteries,  or  one  of  those  he 
had  taken  from  our  fellows,  and  it  began  to  rain 
shells  about  Pembroke's  ears.  That  is  to  say,  it 
began  to  rain  miniature  volcanoes.  Cylindrical 
bodies,  a  trifle  smaller  than  tomato -cans,  hurtled 
through  the  air,  and  exploded  their  sulphurous  con- 
tents against  the  wall  and  the  roof,  and  scattered 
scraps  of  iron  in  every  direction,  as  if  junk  was  all 
that  the  world  needed  at  that  moment. 

Several  shells  ripped  through  the  roof,  and  the 
report  came  that  the  house  was  on  fire  in  the  attic ; 
and  some,  rather  lucky  hits  than  good  shots,  came 
through  the  shutters  and  exploded  in  the  rooms. 


272 

Some  of  the  fellows  were  in  the  garret  trying  to 
fight  the  fire  there  to  keep  the  boys  from  getting 
roasted  out  altogether ;  and  it  was  evident  that  this 
stone  structure,  which  had  been  a  fort  at  first,  was 
now  very  likely  to  prove  only  like  a  box  which 
holds  a  pigeon  in  his  place  till  the  marksman  is 
ready. 

Pembroke  could  not  reciprocate  these  attentions 
of  the  enemy,  for  the  battery  that  had  thus  got  so 
beautifully  the  range  of  his  position  was  below  a 
ridge  in  his  front  and  out  of  sight,  and  to  make  a 
sortie  and  endeavor  to  get  it  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet  seemed  like  going  at  the  whole  right  wing 
of  the  rebel  army  with  his  accidental  and  miscella- 
neous command. 

He  only  waited,  tlierefore ;  but  waited  with  all 
precautions  likely  to  save  his  men.  He  put  them 
all  in  the  cellar  but  six.  In  the  cellar  they  were 
below  the  line  of  fire ;  and  if  a  shell  exploded  in  any 
of  the  ground-floor  rooms,  the  fragments  had  not 
force  enough  to  penetrate  the  heavy  oaken  planks  of 
that  floor.  The  fellows  kept  above  were  placed  on 
guard  to  watch  for  any  opportunity,  and  sheltered 
behind  the  angles  of  the  stone  wall. 

Behind  the  house  there  was  an  outside  issue  from 
the  cellar,  so  that,  if  the  fire  made  such  headway 
that  the  men  could  not  again  get  up  the  narrow 
cellar-way  into  tlfe  house,  they  could  at  worst  go 
that  way. 

And  the  fire  was  too  much  for  the  fellows  above, 
and  after  a  doubtful  struggle  asserted  itself  in  a  free 


ON  THE  FIGHTING-LINE.  273 

flame  that  crept  up  and  down  the  rafters  in  that 
combustible  part  of  the  structure  until  the  fellows 
up  there  had  to  retire  before  the  suffocating  smoke ; 
and  the  constant  fire  of  the  battery  was  knocking 
to  pieces  all  one  side  of  the  house,  so  that  the  boj^s 
would  have  a  pretty  free  fire  if  the  enemy  should 
come  again. 

But  yet  the  enemy  did  not  come;  and  it  even 
seemed  that  there  was  a  lull  in  the  fire  of  the  bat- 
tery, and  that  it  was  kept  up  rather  as  a  formality 
than  with  any  warlike  passion. 

l!^ow,  the  reason  of  this  was  that  the  enemy's 
force  liad  in  a  great  degree  melted  away.  His  men 
had  been  on  foot  since  midnight,  marching  and  fight- 
ing. They  had  had  no  breakfast.  It  was  now  near 
noon;  and  having  driven  our  fellows  from  their 
camps,  some  of  them  had  discovered  bonanzas  of 
provender,  and  the  word  had  gone  round  to  others. 

Glory  is  a  dazzling  prize,  but  men  want  it  after 
breakfast ;  and  the  promise  of  the  material  satisfac- 
tion of  canned  mutton,  baker's  bread,  and  a  bottle 
of  whiskey  will  tempt  famished  soldiers  away  from 
the  noblest  hopes  and  visions  of  patriotic  pride.  So 
the  Confederate  army  slipped  through  the  fingers  of 
its  officers  that  day,  and  discipline  did  not  count ; 
and  the  supplies  and  the  portable  property  generally 
that  lay  around  loose  in  our  abandoned  camps  did 
us  almost  as  much  service  as  our  ammunition. 

Major  Pembroke  perceived  that  there  was  a  dif- 
ference in  the  spirit  of  the  enemy's  operations ;  and 
the  commander  who  studies  his  enemy  always  gets 
18 


274  "AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

a  hint  for  any  cliance  that  is  on  the  cards.  He 
drew  out  his  men,  formed  them  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  house, — for  the  farther  wall  was  still  in  good 
condition, — and  leaving  the  main  body  there,  went 
forward  with  a  platoon  formed  as  skirmishers  to  the 
crest  of  the  ridge,  beyond  which  was  the  batterj^ 
There  he  saw  the  condition  of  the  enemy's  force. 
In  the  battery  there  were  left  only  enough  men  to 
work  one  gun,  and  the  infantry  force  was  only  a 
demoralized  group  of  about  a  company,  half  of 
whom  seemed  to  be  tipsy. 

His  appearance  on  the  ridge  aroused  the  enemy 
somewhat;  but  the  Major  saw  his  opportunity, 
hastily  brought  up  his  whole  force,  formed  a  good 
line,  charged  the  battery,  captured  it,  and  turned  it 
against  the  skedaddling  scraps  of  the  infantry  that 
had  been  posted  to  support  it,  who  now  went  away 
with  satisfied  alacrity.  Luckily  for  him  and  for  the 
little  party  with  him,  this  dash  coincided  in  point  of 
time  with  the  heroic  move  that  had  happened  on 
the  main  field  of  battle ;  for  before  the  enemy  in 
front  of  Pembroke  recovered  his  surprise,  he  felt,  in 
common  with  the  whole  line,  the  impulse  of  the 
great  drive  that  had  begun  elsewhere  and  was  al- 
ready sweeping  the  field. 

Away  they  all  went.  But  the  style  in  which  they 
went  was  characteristic.  They  did  not  run.  They 
did  not  even  turn  their  faces  with  defiant  de- 
meanor. They  simply  gave  it  up  and  trudged 
wearily  away  in  the  direction  from  which  they  had 
come.     It  was  the  sullen  tramp  of  men  who  had 


ON  THE  FIGHTING-LIiJE.  275 

become  indifferent  and  reckless,  and  who  moved  in 
harmony  with  one  another,  bnt  always  toward  the 
rear.  The  infantry-fire  that  played  into  them  did 
not  hurry  them ;  the  shells  that  screamed  and  burst 
above  their  heads  were  no  more  to  them  than  snow- 
flakes  ;  but  the  gallant  officers  that  dashed  here  and 
there  and  appealed  to  them  and  tried  to  stem  the 
current  labored  and  died  in  vain. 

It  is  a  wonder  of  human  analysis,  this  demeanor 
of  a  beaten  army :  how  at  one  minute  fifty  thousand 
men  for  a  "  fantasy  and  trick  of  fame "  go  ahead, 
reckless  of  wounds  and  agony  and  death,  and  at  an- 
other minute  go  the  other  way,  as  reckless  of  glory 
and  shame  as  they  were  before  of  pains  and  perils ; 
how  at  one  moment  the  flesh  is  forgotten  for  the 
soul,  and  in  the  next  the  soul  is  forgotten  under 
some  occult  inspiration  that  is  clearly  of  the  flesh 
fleshy.  It  is  as  if  the  soul  were  a  bowstring"  to  the 
body,  and  at  the  end  of  a  hopeless  battle  the  bow- 
string snaps. 

But  in  the  mean  time  the  blue  line  came  on,  and 
the  canopy  of  powder-smoke  was  lifted  by  the  vi- 
bration of  the  cheers  of  thirty  thousand  men.  It  is 
a  grand  harmony  to  hear  that  surging  murmur  of 
the  cheers  of  conquerors,  almost  drowning  the  fire 
of  the  infantry,  and  filling  all  the  spaces  between 
the  high  notes  of  the  artillery. 

And  now  happened  a  notable  thing.  Major 
Pembroke  had,  beyond  the  houses  and  the  timber, 
by  the  cheers  and  by  the  line  of  fire  discovered  the 
general  advance  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  captured 


276 

that  battery,  and  perceived  that  his  advance  was 
oblique  to  ours,  and  that  he  would  connect  by 
keeping  on ;  and  so  he  kept  on.  Consequently  his 
right  lapped  our  left  on  the  turnpike  in  two  or  three 
minutes,  and  there  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
grandest  whirl  of  glory  and  battle  ever  seen  in  that 
part  of  Virginia. 

Our  regiment  was  just  in  that  part  of  the  main 
line  that  was  lapped  on  the  road  by  the  little  line  that 
Pembroke  brought  up ;  and  thus  it  happened  that 
for  a  minute  he,  moving  at  the  right  of  his  line, 
rode  between  it  and  ours,  ^gut  everybody  was  so 
full  of  the  one  grand  purpose  of  the  moment  that 
minor  thoughts,  such  as  the  recognition  of  individu- 
alities or  perception  of  persons,  could  scarcely  have 
made  an  impression ;  and  the  shout  of  \dctory  so 
overwhelmed  all  other  utterances  that  whatever 
might  have  been  said  would  have  been  understood 
as  part  of  that. 

He  was  not  noticed,  therefore,  until  in  a  minute 
or  two  it  occurred  to  some  one  that  just  before  we 
were  in  front  with  a  clear  range  at  the  enemy,  and 
now  here  was  a  blue  line  lapped  in  front  of  us.  And 
where  did  it  come  from,  and  what  was  it,  and  who 
commanded  it  ?     Then  some  one  said : 

"  Why,  here's  Major  Pembroke !" 

And  that  was  repeated  ;  and  the  fellows  stopped 
their  firing  and  looked  up,  and  spontaneously  rushed 
around  him  and  gave  him  three  cheers ;  for  to  us 
then  he  was  like  one  risen  from  the  dead.  With 
oui*  joy  at  seeing  him,  and  our  glory  over  seeing 


ON  THE  FIGHTIN'G-LINE.  277 

him  again  in  that  place  and  in  those  circumstances, 
any  one  may  guess  that  we  were  filled  up,  and  will 
understand  how  we  forgot  ourselves,  and  how  the 
foiTnation  was  lost,  and  the  line  became  a  crowd  of 
fellows  nearly  wild  around  the  Major,  so  that  all 
the  field-officers  came  down,  upon  us  at  once  and 
volleyed  out  all  the  tallest  kind  of  "  cuss-words." 

But  the  Major  himself  straightened  the  lines ;  for 
he  saw  in  a  second  how  it  was,  and  that  he  was  the 
point  of  the  snarl.     So  he  shouted  : 

"  Forward,  boys !"  and  spurred  his  horse  to  the 
front ;  and  the  line  fell  to  its  place  by  a  kind  of 
moral  gravitation. 

And  then  happened  to  him  one  more  mischance. 
Some  men  always  get  hit.  There  are  plenty  of 
fellows  who  were  on  the  fighting-line  all  the  time 
through  the  whole  war  and  never  got  a  scratch ; 
and  there  are  others  that  simply  oscillated  between 
the  battle-field  and  the  hospital. 

Although  the  enemy's  line  was  at  this  time 
hardly  firing  a  shot,  yet  in  their  rear  they  had  some 
batteries  that  saw  our  advance  and  shelled  us  ;  and 
these  shells  mostly  went  over  us  and  burst  in  the 
rear.  But  some  burst  so  as  to  do  execution  in  our 
line.  One  of  these  shells  burst  about  ten  yards  in 
front  of  the  Major,  while  he  had  his  right  hand  in 
the  air  waving  us  onward  ;  and  a  fragment  of  the 
shell  tore  that  right  hand  to  ribbons. 

He  was  not  conscious  of  it  himself,  but  in  a  little 
while  the  loss  of  blood  told  upon  him,  and  he  be- 


278  ''AS  WE  WENT  MARCHING  ON." 

came  pale  and  was  shaking  in  the  saddle.  And  the 
boys  near  him,  seeing  the  spurt  of  the  blood  from 
the  arteries,  lifted  him  tenderly  .down  from  his 
horse  and  left  him  with  the  surgeons.  And  the  line 
went  on  at  the  heels  of  the  flying  foe. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

THE   WIFE   AND   THE   OTHER   WOMAN. 

Longer  and  wearier  rides  than  those  a  wounded 
man  takes  in  an  ambulance-wagon  from  the  battle- 
field to  the  nearest  permanent  hospital  are  unknown 
to  human  experience.  For  is  the  man  not  nerves  all 
over  ?  Is  not  tlie  best  of  ambulance-wao^ons  but 
little  better  than  a  dump-cart  for  comfort  ?  And  is 
not  every  road  in  the  universe  a  mere  succession 
of  horrible  inequalities  nicely  adapted  to  the  pre- 
cise limit  of  endurance  ?  If  these  things  are  not 
so,  there  are  many  gallant  old  remnants  of  humanity 
who  have  been  misled  by  their  sensations. 

Pembroke  got  on  very  well  with  his  ride,  how- 
ever; for  there  are  agonies  of  thought  to  which  the 
worst  agonies  of  the  flesh  are  distractions.  His  arm 
was  amputated  at  Winchester  the  next  day. 

His  recovery  went  on  very  well,  and  it  may  be 
supposed  that  one  who  was  not  to  be  killed  by  the 
hurt  he  had  received  in  the  fight  with  the  cavalry 
was  sure  against  any  ordinary  injury ;  yet  he  did 
not  come  up  with  the  greatest  possible  elasticity,  for 
this  time  there  was  the  emotional  element  as  a  com- 
plication. His  days  were  uneasy,  his  nights  often 
sleepless,  through  worry  over  the  possible  fate  of 
Phoebe. 


From  the  moment  lie  had  parted  with  her  until 
the  hour  of  the  battle  there  had  been  little  chance 
for  his  thoughts  to  dwell  upon  her  dangers.  Every 
hour  supplied  some  facts  of  its  own.  His  time  of 
hiding  in  the  swampy  woods  with  Hiram ;  their 
narrow  escapes  from  those  who  pursued  so  closely ; 
his  march  with  the  soldier  until  from  the  very 
exhaustion  of  nature  he  had  slept  beside  the  bivouac- 
lire  ;  the  sound  of  battle,  and  the  fight,  next  day — 
all  these  had  so  filled  up  the  time  with  perilous 
adventure  that  there  had  been  no  chance  for 
thoughts  not  related  to  what  was  before  him. 

But  now  in  the  rest  and  tranquillity  of  the  hospi- 
tal there  was  leisure  for  this  painful  indulgence ; 
and  the  throng  of  delicious  recollections,  coupled 
with  dreadful  apprehensions  of  what  had  happened 
or  might  happen  to  the  dear  little  woman,  made  a 
terrible  medley  in  his  soul. 

Perhaps  at  this  very  instant  at  which  his  thoughts 
were  so  overwhelmingly  concerned  with  her  wel- 
fare she  was  in  some  desperate  need  of  help ;  per- 
haps it  was  some  agony  of  mind  on  her  part  that 
affected  him  with  this  thous^ht.  And  he  would  start 
up  almost  with  an  imagination  that  he  heard  her  call 
to  him.  Then  he  would  tranquillize  himself  with 
tlie  reflection  that  even  if  well-hidden  Skibbevan 
should  be  found  by  the  troopers  of  either  side, 
Hiram  and  Agate  knew  still  safer  places  in  the 
mountain  where  they  could  take  her ;  and  he  would 
imagine  her  secure  in  these  places.  Then,  again, 
suppose  she  should  hear  that  he  was  hurt  and  should 


THE   WIFE   AKD  THE   OTHER  WOMAN.  281 

try  to  reach  the  army  ?  She  would  be  safe  enougli  if 
she  really  reached  it,  but  in  terrible  danger  every 
step  of  the  way  till  then.  And  his  imagination  pict- 
ured these  perils. 

All  this  retarded  his  recovery,  for  it  kept  up  a 
feverish  condition  of  the  system  ;  and  while  he  was 
counting  the  hours  and  the  seconds,  agonizingly  im- 
patient to  be  on  foot  and  away  to  Skibbevan  to  be 
sure  of  her  welfare,  his  very  impatience  kept  him  a 
prisoner  in  the  surgeon's  hands. 

ITature,  however,  asserted  her  empire  even  here ; 
and  the  recovery  reached  such  a  secure  point  that 
the  doctor  named  the  day  on  which  he  might  leave. 
From  that  hour  hope  helped  him. 

Phoebe  had  in  the  mean  time  heard  that  Pembroke 
was  hurt ;  for  tlie  story  of  how  an  officer  believed  to 
be  dead  had  suddenly  appeared  on  the  field  of 
battle,  gathered  a  handful  of  soldiers  together,  and 
fallen  upon  the  enemy's  rear  just  in  the  heat  of  the 
fight,  and  had  not  been  seen  since,  spread  about 
with  misty  uncertainties  and  additions,  and  was  one 
of  a  kind  to  especially  touch  the  superstitious 
fancies  of  the  darkies ;  and  as  it  spread  from  one 
to  another  settlement  of  these,  it  was  more  talked 
over  than  any  other  part  of  the  battle. 

Hiram  finally  heard  this ;  and  perceiving  to  whom 
it  might  relate,  made  some  inquiries,  and  found  that 
this  was  really  the  Major,  and  that  the  reason  he  had 
not  been  seen  since  was  that  he  was  in  the  hospital 
at  Winchester. 

As  soon  as  this  was  reported  to  Phoebe,  the  brave 


282 

little  woman  determined  that  it  was  her  duty  to  go 
there.    And  she  went. 

That  is  to  say,  she  set  out.  Phoebe  and  Agate 
went  together,  leaving  at  daylight  in  a  rickety  old 
wagon  drawn  by  the  one  remaining  mule. 

Phoebe's  beauty  was  so  well  dissimulated  in  a 
dress  of  the  slave-women's  cloth,  and  a  brown  veil 
and  poke-bonnet,  that  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
danger  on  that  account ;  and  in  fact  they  reached 
Berry ville  the  first  night,  and  were  safely  hidden  by 
a  cousin  of  Agate's  to  whose  house  they  went. 

Next  day  they  were  stopped  on  the  road  to 
"Winchester  by  a  cavalry-picket;  and  the  officer, 
upon  their  report  that  they  were  going  to  visit  a 
wounded  Union  officer  in  hospital,  gave  them  an 
escort  of  two  cavalrymen,  for  the  road  was  full  of 
rough  customers ;  and  this  escort  went  with  them 
until  they  reached  a  commodious  house  a  few  miles 
in  rear  of  the  outpost.  That  house  was  a  Sanitary 
Commission  depot,  and  there  Phoebe  was  destined 
to  make  a  new  acquaintance. 

Mrs.  Lgetitia  Pembroke  we  last  saw  lingering  in 
Washington,  to  vary  a  little  with  social  pleasures  the 
doleful  endeavor  to  find  her  lost  lord ;  but  we  have 
heard  of  her  as  at  Winchester,  offering  rewards  for 
information,  and  in  fact  stirring  up  that  attempt  to 
capture  Pembroke  from  which  he  Iiad  so  narrowly 
escaped,  but  which  had  broken  the  lethargy  he  lay 
in  at  Skibbevan. 

Comparatively  idle  at  Winchester,  Lsetitia  had 
there  made  the  acquaintance  of  many  of  the  philan- 


THE  WIFE  AND  THE  OTHER  WOMAN".  283 

tbropic  men  and  women  who  ^'ran"  the  Sanitary 
Commission.  That  was  an  admirable  machine  ;  and 
though  it  did  sometimes  supply  an  unnecessary 
number  of  pin-cushions  and  other  not  entirely 
essential  things  to  fellows  torn  to  pieces  with  scraps 
of  cast-iron,  yet  it  did  too  much  good  for  any 
soldier  to  feel  like  laughing  at  it.  And  when  Mrs. 
Pembroke  found  out  about  it,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  now  discovered  the  true  mission  of  woman, 
and  she  was  ready  to  run  half  a  dozen  sanitary  com- 
missions all  by  herself. 

She  loved  activity  and  the  sense  of  personal  im- 
portance that  fills  people  who  fancy  they  are  turn- 
ing the  crank  of  the  universe ;  she  was  intelligent, 
acute  and  capable,  and  determined  to  be  useful; 
and  she  happened  to  be  handy  just  as  such  a  person 
was  wanted.  So  she  was  put  in  charge  of  a  depot 
newly  organized  at  that  time. 

She  was  an  energetic  executive,  and  plunged  so 
thoroughly  over  head  and  ears  into  her  duties  that 
for  a  time  she  altogether  forgot  what  she  came  to 
Virginia  for.  Especially  did  she  have  her  hands 
and  her  head  full  after  the  battle  in  the  valley ;  for 
at  tlie  time  when  the  hospitals  filled  up,  the 
resources  of  the  national  charity  were  also  turned 
that  way,  and  the  Commission  machinery  was  run 
at  high  pressure.  Therefore,  as  she  never  thought 
of  Pembroke,  so  she  did  not  hear  of  him ;  and  in- 
deed any  one  of  several  hundred  oflacers  wounded 
in  the  hospital  was  not  talked  about  so  much  in  the 
neighborhood  as  he  was  at  a  great  distance.     And 


284  ''AS   WE   WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

the  first  slie  lieard  of  her  husband  was  by  word  sent 
her  from  Washington  by  some  chance  acquaintance 
there  who  read  the  newspapers.  Inquiry  verified 
the  report.  Her  husband  was  in  the  number  of 
those  who  had  been  badly  wounded  in  the  Last 
battle ;  he  was  in  a  hospital  within  a  few  miles  of 
where  she  was. 

What  should  she  do  about  it  ? 

Go  to  him  at  once,  any  one  would  say  who 
judged  of  the  relations  between  the  two  only  by 
the  way  in  which  L?etitia  had  acted  and  spoken 
since  Pembroke's  disappearance.  But  for  some  rea- 
son she  did  not  feel  that  way.  She  deliberated  ;  and 
the  woman  who  deliberates  often  saves  herself  from 
the  necesssity  of  wishing  vainly  that  she  had  de- 
liberated. 

She  had  heard  of  Pembroke  the  day  before  ;  she 
had  spoken  of  going  to  him  ;  and  this  morning,  the 
morning  of  Plioebe's  arrival,  she  had  not  yet  made 
up  her  mind. 

ISTow,  a  Sanitary  Commission  depot  was  in  some 
sense  a  sort  of  wayside  hotel  in  those  days  ;  for  the 
money  collected  at  the  ISTorth  was  not  all  spent  in 
lint  and  pin-cushions.  All  those  fine  ladies,  and 
gentle  little  women,  and  boisterous  popular  leaders, 
and  juvenile  parsons,  and  medical  students  who 
worked  it  had  to  live  meanwhile;  and  you  could  not 
happen  upon  a  better  house  than  theirs  for  a  cut  of 
roast  meat  or  a  cup  of  coffee. 

As  our  party  drew  near  to  this  station,  the  hearty 
dragoon  who  rode  beside  the  wagon,  and  who  had 


THE  WIFE   AND  THE   OTHER  WOMAN".  285 

caught  glimpses  of  Plioebe's  anxious,  pale  face  and 
thouorht  she  was  huno^ry,  said : 

"IN'ow,  ma'am,  at  this  station  jist  ahead  of  iis, 
Insanitary  Commission  Place,  they'll  give  yon  a  first- 
rate  cup  of  coffee  and  pretty  poor  information. 
But  they  ought  to  know  all  about  the  wounded  in 
the  hospitals  ahead,  for  there's  crowds  of  surgeons 
and  parsons  here." 

Phoebe  agreed  that  they  should  inquire ;  and  so 
they  stopped  there. 

Phoebe,  whose  errand  was  stated  by  the  dragoon, 
had  welcome,  comfort,  and  coffee  forthwith  from 
the  pleasant  people  there.  And  as  there  is  no  cere- 
mony in  that  kind  of  life,  the  juvenile  parsons  and 
medical  students  and  young-women  volunteer  nurses 
gathered  around  and  sympathized  with  lier  as  soon 
as  they  learned  tliat  she  was  interested  in  the  fate 
of  a  Union  officer ;  and  when  his  name  was  men- 
tioned they  looked  at  one  another,  and  word  went  up- 
stairs, and  Phoebe  heard  the  name  of  Mrs.  Pem- 
broke, and,  half  in  a  dream  with  amazement, 
was  taken  up  to  a  large  cheerful  room — a  sort 
of  commandant's  office — to  see  the  lady-superin- 
tendent. 

Lsetitia  guessed  with  accurate  instinct  who  Phoebe 
was ;  and  Phoebe  trembled  when  she  saw  the  woman 
into  whose  presence  she  was  brought,  somewliat  with 
the  air  of  one  who  was  called  upon  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  herself. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  said  Lsetitia,  in  the  same 
sudden  short  way  in  which  she  might  have  asked 


286  ^'AS  WE  WEl^T  MAECHING  ON." 

the  reason  for  filling  any  extravagant  requisition 
npon  lier  supplies. 

Phoebe,  with  as  much  calm  as  she  could  command, 
said : 

"  Are  you  Mrs.  Pembroke  ?" 

"I  am,"  said  Lsetitia.     "  Are  you  Miss  Braxton  ?" 

Phcebe  felt  the  scorn  involved  in  this  inquiry, 
but  said  meekly : 

"  I  am  the  person  you  suppose." 

She  had  at  least  avoided  the  diflSculty  of  herself 
declaring  upon  the  very  doubtful  point  as  to  what 
her  name  really  was. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  Mrs.  Pembroke, 
promptly. 

"  I  am  going  to  Winchester." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?" 

"  To  see  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  Major  Pem- 
broke." 

"  You  were  going  there '?" 

"  I  am  going  there." 

"  But  since  I  am  going  there  myself !  You  dare 
not  put  yourself  between  man  and  wife." 

"  I  dare  do  whatever  my  own  perception  of  duty 
tells  me  is  right." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Lsetitia,  whose  words,  at  least, 
had  till  now  been  perfectly  polite,  but  who  fell, 
as  she  became  more  herself,  into  a  tone  of 
tantalizing  sarcasm — "  Oh  yes ;  j^ou  are  a  daring 
woman,  I  have  heard  ;  and  your  perceptions  are  cer- 
tainly peculiar.  For  my  part,  I  can  scarcely  con- 
gratulate you  upon  your  courage." 


THE  WIFE  AND  THE  OTHER  WOMA^-.  287 

"Perhaps  not.  People  have  such  different  no- 
tions of  what  courage  is." 

"  It  ought  to  require  a  great  deal  of  any  kind  for 
a  good  woman  to  come  between  husband  and  wife." 

"  As  for  coming  between  husband  and  wife,  it 
was  at  first  unknown  to  me  that  Major  Pembroke 
liad  a  wife ;  and  since  I  have  known  it,  I  have 
doubted  whether  his  wife  would  venture  any  peril 
or  inconvenience  to  go  to  him  in  a  case  of  need." 

To  the  various  and  subtle  accusations  involved 
in  this  little  account  of  Phoebe's  motives,  Lsetitia 
responded  only  with  a  sarcastic  and  ironical 

"  Ah,  you  did  not  know !" 

"  How  should  I  have  known  that  he  had  a  wife  ?" 
said  Phoebe,  returning  to  the  charge  with  a  per- 
sistency which  showed  that  the  little  woman's  blood 
was  up.  "  How  could  any  woman  have  even  im- 
agined it  ?  For  more  than  a  year  he  was  wounded 
and  in  my  charge  ;  for  more  than  a  year  I  cared 
for  him.  We  lifted  him  out  of  the  grave.  And  in 
all  those  dreadful  months  no  person  sought  him ; 
not  a  soul  came  to  inquire  whether  he  was  alive 
or  dead.  He  is  a  man  that  a  woman  will  love  if 
she  knows  him ;  and  that  no  woman  came  to  find 
him,  or  perhaps  weep  upon  his  grave,  was  to  me  an 
evidence  that  he  had  no  wife." 

"  It  is  not  to  his  credit  that  he  did  not  tell  you." 
For  as  Phoebe's  position  so  stated  was  unassailable, 
Lsetitia  assailed  the  Major.  But  here  she  was  met 
with  even  readier  pugnacity. 

"  Since  you  are  so  ignorant  as  this  implies  of  the 


condition  he  was  in  at  the  time,  it  would  be  consid- 
erate to  make  no  accusation  against  him." 

"  But  since  he  has  so  ready  a  defender,  an  accu- 
sation can  do  no  liarm." 

"  Is  it  not  a  pity  that  since,  as  you  say,  he  has  a 
wife,  he  should  need  to  be  defended  against  her 
words  1" 

"  But  for  some  time  you  have  known  that  he  has 
a  wife." 

"  Yes ;  and  knowing  that  she  did  not  come  at  one 
time,  I  believed  she  would  not  at  another." 

It  began  to  be  perceptible  to  Lsetitia  that  she 
would  gain  no  easy  victory  of  words  in  this  conflict, 
and  she  gladly  turned  to  notice  some  excitement 
that  had  evidently  occurred  at  the  door  and  on  the 
stairway. 

And  the  dragoon,  who,  as  responsible  for  Phoebe, 
had  followed  her  up,  but  had  remained  speechless, 
now  went  away  downstairs,  and  said  to  his  com- 
rade in  the  road : 

"  By  Jingo  !  Billy,  there's  firing  all  along  the  line 
up  there.  That  little  woman's  tongue  is  the  best- 
hung  piece  of  machinery  in  Virginia." 

And  what  turned  Mrs.  Pembroke's  attention  the 
reader  will  find  recounted  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

THE     COMBAT     THICKENS. 

Now,  that  nish  and  excitement  and  stir  on  the 
stairway  and  at  that  upper  door  which  had  drawn 
Lsetitia's  eyes  in  that  direction,  and  which  had  been, 
indeed,  the  pretext  for  her  turning  away  from 
Phoebe,  as  a  beaten  hawk  that  has  assailed  a  youn^ 
eagle  and  is  loath  to  continue  the  combat,  but  too 
proud  to  leave  it,  pretends  to  perceive  fatter  game 
skipping  down  the  wind — all  that  hurrah  and 
surprise  and  exclamation  was  due  to  another  un- 
expected arrival. 

Major  Pembroke  had  left  the  hospital  on  the  Very 
day  upon  which  Phoebe,  having  learned  where  he 
was,  had  left  Skibbevan;  that  is  to  say,  the  day 
before  this  upon  which  Phoebe  encountered  Mrs. 
Pembroke.  He  had  made  his  preparations  for  de- 
parture that  afternoon  ;  had  secured  a  horse  and 
gone  a  step  of  the  way,  to  sleep  in  a  strange  place — 
a  good  soldier's  precaution  for  getting  an  early  start 
next  day.  And  having  made  that  early  start,  he 
v/as  pushing  swiftly  for  the  mountain,  and  would 
have  passed  both  Lsetitia  and  Phoebe  together,  but 
that  some  happy  providence  had  wisely  kept  Agate 
waiting  in  the  road  with  the  mule. 

And  this  was  a  marvel,  too ;  because  at  such  places 
19 


290 

there  was  a  great  deal  of  high  life  below  stairs,  and 
no  scarcity:  of  gallant  colored  fellows  to  be  civil  to 
Agate  in  the  kitchen,  for  she  was  a  yellow  beauty. 

But  there  she  was  in  the  road-side,  and  there, 
sitting  and  patiently  waiting,  she  saw  a  well-mounted 
officer  riding  that  way ;  and  as  her  eyes  dwelt  upon 
him,  it  swam  into  her  perceptions  that  there  was 
something  familiar  in  his  air,  and  tlien  that  it  was 
the  Major ;  and  she  threw  up  her  hands  with  a  scream 
which  attracted  his  attention,  and  then  sprang  with 
the  agility  of  a  leopard  to  a  place  in  the  roadway 
beside  him,  and  said  : 

''Missus  is  here.  Mars  Major,"  and  pointed  to  the 
house. 

And  tha  Major  di-ew  rein,  leaped  down,  rushed 
in,  was  pointed  the  way  upstairs,  went  like  a  flash, 
and  he  was  the  officer  who  burst  in  as  the  dragoon 
came  out. 

Besides  Phoebe  and  Lsetitia,  there  were  several 
other  persons  there,  the  various  associates  in  the 
superintendent's  duties — a  kind  of  small  chorus  to 
this  little  drama.  But  the  Major,  having  eyes  only 
for  Phoebe,  saw  only  her,  and,  striding  forward, 
seized  and  clasped  her  in  his  one  good  arm,  for 
what  was  left  of  the  other  was  still  tied  up. 

In  this  one  instant  of  delight  all  the  gloomy  ap- 
prehensions that  had  filled  the  Major's  mind  were 
lost,  for  here  was  the  beloved  little  woman,  really, 
positively  here  ;  and  to  Phoebe  this  sudden  recovery 
of  him  whom  she  had  thought  to  find  once  more 
perhaps  at  the  edge  of  the  grave  was  an  ecstasy. 


THE   COMBAT  THICKENS.  291 

And  they  were  sufficient  for  one  another,  and  neither 
had  for  a  little  any  thought  of  any  other  creature. 

Then  Phcebe  suddenly  bethought  her  of  the  other 
woman  near, — one  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  many 
months  more, — toward  whom  she  did  not  know  just 
what  his  relations  or  his  thoughts  might  be :  and 
the  ecstasy  faded  suddenly  from  her  soul. 

Pembroke  perceived  instantly  the  change  in  her, 
and,  watching  her  face,  seemed  to  feel  the  direction 
of  her  thoughts ;  and  looking  that  way — there  stood 
Lsetitia. 

Here  was  a  predicament  from  which  no  very  easy 
issue  was  apparent,  either  by  battle  or  retreat ;  for 
though  he  had  in  his  arms  the  woman  whom  he 
preferred  before  all  other  real  or  possible  women 
in  the  world,  yet  the  other's  position  he  was 
not  the  man  to  deny.  But  how,  with  that  claim 
not  denied,  retain  Phoebe;  how  at  once  reassure 
Phoebe's  love  and  yet  not  do  what  must  forfeit  all 
claim  to  respect  as  a  sincere  and  considerate  gen- 
tleman ? 

But  help  came  immediately;  and  came,  as  it  so 
often  comes  to  those  in  difficulty,  from  the  sponta- 
neous and  ready  blundering  of  the  enemy — from  Lae- 
titia's  failure  to  perceive  or  consider  wherein  lay  the 
strength  of  her  case. 

As  she  observed  his  movement  of  surprise  and 
consternation,  she  said,  in  her  taunting  sarcastic  way : 

"  Do  not  on  any  account  let  my  presence  inter- 
fere with  your  pleasure." 

This  was  said  in  that  spirit  of  ironical  mockery 


292  *'AS   WE   WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

that  was  most  natural  to  her.  In  a  second  it  put 
the  Major  at  ease — at  home,  as  it  were.  Lsetitia 
as  an  injured  wife,  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  her 
position,  or  as  a  woman  with  claims  yet  with  sym- 
pathies, might  have  been  a  difficulty  ;  but  behold  ! 
she  surrounded  herself  as  by  a  magic  stroke  with  the 
intellectual  atmosphere  in  which  she  had  lived  in 
their  home  in  Maine  :  and  Lsetitia  with  a  taunt  on 
her  lips  was  easy  to  meet. 

"  If  you  knew  all  the  story,"  said  the  Major, 
gently,  "  you  would  not  see  occasion  for  embarrass- 
ment for  yourself  or  for  any  other  in  my  being  fond 
of  this  lady.  You  might,  indeed,  be  fond  of  her 
yourself." 

"  Indeed !"  said  Lsetitia.  "  I  am  glad  that  I  do  not 
know  as  much  as  some  people.  It  would  be  more 
than  folly  to  know  that  which  one  ought  not  to 
know  to  retain  one's  own  self-respect." 

"  Retain  your  self-respect,  then,"  said  the  Major 
coolly  ;  "  and  while  it  is  without  any  generous  im- 
pulse no  one  will  envy  you  the  possession.  For  my 
part,  I  dearly  love  this  woman,  and  my  passion  for 
her  is  apart  from  any  mere  thought  of  gratitude 
for  her  help  ;  but  it  grew  when  I  was  unconscious 
of  other  obligations,  and  it  has  been  the  cause  of 
a  grievous  injustice  to  her,  which  all  related  to  my 
life  should  endeavor  to  remedy." 

Herein  the  Major  gave  her  an  opportunity  she 
did  not  perceive. 

There  was  such  an  evident  difference  in  the  air 
of  these  two  women  toward  this  man  that  nobody 


THE   COMBAT  THICKENS.  293 

could  miss  it ;  for  while  the  one  assumed  a  defiant 
position  of  self-assertion,  and  cared  only  for  her  own 
case,  the  other  had  scarcely  even  reflected  that  there 
was  for  her  any  other  trouble  in  the  world  than  the 
pain  in  which  she  might  find  the  man  she  loved. 

And  Lsetitia  deepened  the  impression  of  differ- 
ence when,  without  the  slightest  perception  of  the 
feeling  of  the  scene,  she  only  said,  with  an  artificial 
effort  to  be  sharp : 

"What  a  habit  of  pretty  speeches  you  have 
caught  up  !" 

That  was  all  she  saw  in  what  he  said.  But  having 
thus  given  utterance  to  her  vain  ill-will,  another 
impression  came  upon  her. 

She  dimly  perceived  that  the  Major's  words  as- 
sumed that  she  was  so  related  to  him  that  Phoebe's 
service  to  him  was  also  a  service  to  her,  and  that 
this  made  her  the  nearer  of  the  two ;  and  that  there 
was  in  this  an  admission  that  she,  as  a  wife,  was  the 
stronger  on  this  occasion,  and  that  she  had  missed 
a  point  in  not  standing  on  that  ground  rather  than 
giving  way  to  ill-tempered  words. 

But  before  she  could  make  any  endeavor  to  re- 
cover a  lost  opportunity,  there  was  another  interrup- 
tion. Our  old  acquaintance  Chawpney  stood  upon 
the  threshold. 

Chawpney  had  not  had  an  easy  time  of  it  lately. 
He  had  been  warmed  and  cooled  so  often  in  the 
caprices  of  the  fair  Lsetitia  that  his  passion  had  in 
some  part  turned  to  spite  ;  and  but  a  short  time 
since  he  had  heroically  resolved  that  he  would  have 


294 

liis  own  way  on  one  point  at  least,  and  liad  deter- 
mined that  lie  would  not  again  interfere  with  the 
progress  of  the  snit  for  divorce. 

Previous  to  his  last  departure  from  Maine  he  had 
provided  that  the  suit  should  be  j^ushed  in  every 
possible  way ;  and  upon  his  arrival  in  Washington 
once  more,  he  thought  he  discovered  conditions  of 
the  drama  that  might  make  a  decree  of  little  other 
advantage  to  him  than  a  gratification  of  spite. 

He  heard  of  Pembroke  in  the  hospital  at  Win- 
chester, and  knew  that  Lsetitia  was  in  the  Sanitary 
Commission  service  in  that  region,  and  did  not 
doubt,  consequently,  that  they  would  meet  and 
reconcile  their  difficulties. 

"Estranged  couples,"  he  thought,  ''always  make 
up  at  last,  and  the  other  woman  is  always  crowded 
out  of  the  case ;  and  so  is  the  other  man,  by  hookey  !" 

And  then  he  thought  not  only  upon  his  disap- 
pointment, but  upon  a  great  deal  of  ridicule  that  he 
might  have  to  face ;  and  all  this  urged  him  to  a  deal 
of  telegrajihing  to  his  legal  helpers  in  Maine.  He 
brooded,  in  bilious  misery,  over  the  uncertainty  of 
woman's  nature ;  and  thinking  he  might  do  worse 
than  go  to  the  army  himself,  looked  out  for  a  sut- 
ler's contract. 

But  one  day  there  came  by  the  post  a  fat,  impor- 
tant-looking package.  He  opened  it,  nervously 
glanced  hurriedly  through  its  varied  contents,  but- 
toned it  in  a  capacious  inside  pocket  of  his  coat,  and 
hurried  away  to  the  train.  There  might  be  not  a 
minute  to  lose,  and  the  annoying  delays  on  the  rail- 


THE   COMBAT  THICKENS.  295 

road  at  every  step  of  the  way  to  Martinsburg  would 
have  given  apoplexy  to  a  more  emotional  person. 
But  he  conquered  all  difficulties  and  obstructions ; 
reached  Winchester ;  learned  of  the  Major's  depar- 
ture ;  learned  where  Lsetitia  was ;  knew  that  they 
had  not  met,  but  that  the  danger  was  not  over ;  and 
pushed  on  desperately,  to  arrive,  as  we  have  seen,  at  a 
most  critical  moment,  and  to  assist  at  a  very  delicate 
conference. 

Perhaps  the  reader  will  readily  understand  that  he 
was  not,  upon  the  whole,  a  welcome  apparition  to 
Mrs.  Pembroke;  for  the  coming  of  a  man  whom 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  marry  in  a  certain 
contingency,  and  whom  she  had  employed  to  hasten 
that  contingency,  might  deprive  her  of  all  the  superi- 
ority of  her  position  as  a  dutiful  and  injured  wife, 
and  fairly  turn  the  tables  against  her.  Indeed,  if 
her  relations  with  Chawpney  should  now  be  brought 
out,  it  would  appear  that  on  her  part  she  was 
morally  in  the  same  delinquency  as  the  husband  she 
accused :  with  this  aggravation,  that  she  had  coolly 
and  deliberately  contrived  and  plotted  against  her 
matrimonial  obligations,  while  whatever  Pembroke 
had  done  against  them  had  been  the  result  of  the 
chances  and  confusions  of  destiny,  spurred  to  en- 
deavor new  complications  of  amorous  history  by  all 
the  opportunities  of  war.  And  she  knew  enough  of 
Chawpney  to  imagine  that  his  special  purpose  would 
be  to  make  maliciously  clear,  in  what  would  appear 
to  be  the  most  innocent  w\ay,  whatever  might  be 
against  her. 


296  "AS  WE   WEKT  MARCHIKG  ON." 

Cliawpney,  with  fliat  vivid  perception  of  the  re- 
lation of  persons  which  a  lawyer  gets  from  his  prac- 
tice in  courts,  caught  the  whole  situation  at  half  a 
glance. 

Here  were  the  wicked  Iiusband,  the  reproaching 
wife,  and  the  dangerous  "  other  woman." 

"  And  not  so  very  dangerous  either,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "A  commonplace  little  person,  in  a  but- 
ternut dress,  that  hangs  to  her  figure  like  wet  cloth. 
iNot  a  bad  figure,  though." 

He  came  forward  with  an  air  of  cordial,  familiar, 
surprised  good-nature. 

"  How  are  you.  Major  ?  How  are  you  ?"  he  said 
with  emphatic  warmth,  and  seized  upon  the  Major's 
hand.  "  Delighted  to  see  you  again !  Great  ac- 
counts of  your  services,  and  of  your  wounds.  All 
the  surgeons  in  Maine  discussing  your  recovery. 
Everybody  proud  of  your  valor.  People  say,  '  One 
of  the  greatest  soldiers  Maine  has  sent  to  the  war.' 
Ah !  how  do  you  do,  ma'am  ?"  he  said  to  Phoebe, 
and  "How  d'ye  do,  again  ?"  to  Laetitia. 

"  'SjDOse  you  never  thought  you'd  see  us  down 
here  together,  Major,  eh?  But  we've  been  on  a 
queer  hunt,  you  know,  and  been  running  part  of 
the  Sanitary  Commission ;  and  your  wife — ah — that 
is  to  say — ah — ^yes — that  is  to  say — " 

And  the  keen  fellow  boggled  and  hesitated  as  if 
he  was  in  a  scrape  as  to  words,  at  a  loss  for  the  right 
one  and  unable  to  find  it.  And  as  this  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  wishing  to  correct  his  use  of  the  word 
wife,  every  one's  eyes  were  opened  with  startled 


THE  COMBAT  THICKENS.  297 

curiosity ;  and  Laetitia,  very  pale,  drew  herself  up 
and  bit  her  Hps,  and  turned  upon  him  a  look  curi- 
ously mingled  of  beseeching  and  defiance. 

But  Chawpney,  having,  as  he  intended,  thus 
acutely  fixed  the  utmost  degree  of  attention  for 
what  he  should  say  next,  blurted  out,  in  a  way  of 
generous  offering  and  apology  : 

"  But  then.  Major,  all  the  women  in  Portland  are 
crazy  about  you,  and  you  can  get  forty  new  wives 
if  you  want  'em." 

"Mr.  Chawpney,"  said  Laetitia,  now  suddenly 
turned  scarlet,  "  what  do  you  mean,  sir  '^"  For  now, 
as  what  he  said  went  so  far  beyond  what  she  had 
imagined,  she  really  did  not  know  what  he  meant. 

"  Forty  new  wives !"  said  the  Major.  "  What  does 
that  mean?" 

"What  does  it  mean?"  said  Chawpney,  inno- 
cently. "  I'm  astonished  you  don't  understand.  It 
appears  you  don't  know,  then  ;  and  I  thought  you 
were  talking  it  all  over  when  I  came  in.  Didn't 
you  get " — to  Lsetitia — "  my  telegraphic  dispatch  ?" 

"  I  did  not  get  any  dispatch,  sir,"  she  said  with 
cold  severity,  as  if  she  would  crush  him  for  familiar 
impertinence.  But  Chawpney  was  not  to  be 
crushed  on  this  occasion.  He  knew  he  had  the 
jury. 

"  Did  not  receive  the  dispatch  ?"  he  said.  "  That  is 
strange,  very  strange;  and  yet  in  time  of  war  I 
suppose  you  never  can  count  upon  those  things  for 
certainty.  Then  you  don't  know,  of  course ;  and 
you.  Major,  naturally  don't  know  if  you  have  not 


298  '  AS   WE   WEN"T  MARCHIKG   ON"/' 

been  told.  Well,  you  see,  the  case  is  this :  Supreme 
Court  of  Maine  has  granted  against  you  a  decree  of 
absolute  divorce." 

And  Chawpney  delivered  this  word  divorce  with 
an  elocutionary  effect,  in  virtue  of  which  it  filled 
every  corner  and  crevice  of  the  room  ;  and  the  white 
walls  and  the  ceilings  and  the  furniture  seemed  to 
repeat  in  various  encountering  echoes,  "  Divorce,  di- 
vorce, divorce."  So  did  everybody  in  the  room  re- 
peat it,  and  the  air  was  filled  for  a  few  minutes 
with  the  word  divorce. 

Lsetitia  sank  into  a  chair  beside  the  office  table 
at  which  she  had  been  standing,  and  turned  upon 
Chawpney  a  despairing  glance  that  seemed  to  say, 
^^  J^ow  indeed  you  have  done  it."  Phoebe  drew  closer 
to  Pembroke,  whose  arm  grew  hke  an  iron  band 
about  her.  All  the  volunteer  nurses,  medical  stu- 
dents, clerks,  and  hospital  stewards  about  whispered 
with  one  another,  and  Chawpney  rattled  on : 

"  Yes,  here  are  the  papers  ;"  and  he  produced  that 
fat  package.  "  Absolute  divorce ;  plaintiff  only  can 
re-marry  in  the  State ;  but  of  course  out  of  the 
State  defendant  is  out  of  the  jurisdiction." 

Phoebe's  eyes  were  fixed  permanently  upon  Lseti- 
tia — eyes  full  of  sympathy  and  pity  for  another 
woman's  defeat  and  chagrin ;  and  Lsetitia,  who  was 
conscious  of  it,  would  like  to  have  been  where  she 
could  make  faces  at  her. 

*'  Sir,"  she  said  to  Chawpney,  '^  I  instructed  you 
to  discontinue  the  proceedings." 

^'  Yes,"  he  said  ;  ^'  but  the  court  had  possession  of 


THE  COMBAT  THICKENS.  299 

the  case,  and  after  a  certain  point  in  sucli  j^roceed- 
ings  it  will  not  stay." 

"  But,"  she  said,  still  conscious  of  Phoebe's  eyes, 
''  the  decree  can  be  set  aside."  And  Phoebe's  eyes 
turned  away. 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  said  the  lawyer — "  as  to 
that — hum  ! — at  the  defendant's  suit,  maybe  so  ! 
You  see,  Major,  these  proceedings  were  begun  a  great 
vrhile  ago.  Begun,  in  fact,  when  it  was  doubtful 
where  you  were — or  indeed  if  you  were  anywhere." 

"  Yet  begun  in  the  opinion  that  I  was  some- 
where," said  the  Major ;  "  for  if  I  was  not,— if  I  had 
passed  away, — what  would  be  the  need  of  a  divorce  ?" 

"  Certainly,  certainly,'-  said  Chawpney.  "  As  you 
say,  Major ;  that's  so.  But  there's  no  feeling  on  my 
part ;  and  if  you  join  in  an  application  to  reopen  the 
case,  I  shall  be  happy  to  take  charge  of  that  phase 
of  it." 

"  But,"  said  the  Major,  "  is  it  absolutely  certain, 
beyond  all  doubt  or  possibility  of  dispute,  that  such 
a  judgment  has  been  rendered  in  the  Supreme  Court 
of  Maine  ?" 

"  There  is  no  more  doubt,"  said  the  other,  "  than 
that  this  is  daylight  which  lights  the  room  we  are 
in." 

"Well,"  said  the  Major,  "Fortune  brings  in 
some  ships  that  are  not  steered.  As  to  reopen- 
ing this  case,  we  will  consider  that  some  other  day. 
Good-morning,  madam," — to  Lsetitia, — "  and  good- 
morning,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Come,  Phoebe 
dear." 


300 

And  then  putting  Lis  good  arm  around  the  dear 
little  woman  who  had  instinctively  kept  so  close  to 
him,  he  led  or  lifted  her  to  the  door  and  down  the 
stairs,  and  helped  her  up  beside  Agate  in  the  rickety 
vehicle  that  waited  there  ;  and  then  mounting  his  own 
horse,  rode  away  beside  her.  And  though  it  was  not 
a  dazzling  cavalcade  to  look  upon,  many  a  more 
magnificent  one  would  have  bartered  all  its  splen- 
dor for  the  supreme  bliss  that  filled  those  hearts. 

"  *  For  time,  the  foe  of  famous  chevisauce, 

Seldom,'  said  Guyon,  'yields  to  virtue  aid, 
But  in  her  way  throws  mischief  and  mischance, 

"Whereby  her  course  is  stopped  and  passage  stayed. 
But  you,  fair  sir,  be  not  herewith  dismayed, 

But  constant  keep  the  way  in  which  5^e  stand; 
Which  were  it  not  that  I  am  else  delayed 

With  hard  adventure  which  I  have  in  hand, 
I  labor  would  to  guide  you  through  all  fairy-land.'  " 


CHAPTEE  XXYI. 

TATTOO   EOLL-CALL. 

L^TiTiA  went  home  somewhat  depressed  in  spirit 
and  mth  an  experience  of  defeat  in  her  soul — which, 
in  fact,  was  the  first  experience  of  her  life  that  had 
ever  reached  that  inner  and  remote  recess  of  her 
nature. 

Unfortunately,  the  word  soul,  which  is  a  very 
good  word,  is  used  in  much  too  glib  a  way  for 
people  to  get  accurate  ideas  of  the  relation  to  daily 
life  of  that  part  of  our  humanity  to  which  we  give 
this  name.  If  the  possibility  of  a  nice  analysis 
were  not  destroyed  in  this  way,  we  might  get  happy 
glimpses  at  the  characters  of  persons  by  discover- 
ing what  facts  in  life  had  first  convinced  them  of 
their  souls. 

Lsetitia's  was  first  reached  by  a  sense  of  calami- 
tous defeat  and  mortified  vanity  on  this  occasion ; 
and  she  felt  that  if  one  little  woman  is  to  play  at 
skittles  with  other  people's  lives, — to  have  men  and 
other  women  stand  about  just  where  she  puts  them 
and  serve  as  manikins  in  a  game  of  life  entirely 
planned  by  her  and  for  her  benefit, — then  she  needs 
to  be  very  sure  of  the  fidelity  of  all  her  tools,  and 
needs  in  addition  to  have  Providence  on  her  side. 

But  she  did  not  put  it  just  that  way  in  her  reflec- 


302 

tions.  She  put  it,  of  course,  in  a  way  that  kept  her 
in  the  right  and  convicted  the  whole  human  family, 
so  far  as  she  knew  it,  of  having  conspired  against 
her. 

And  in  this  she  was  only  under  the  influence  of 
common  impulses ;  for  who  sees  the  world  from 
any  other  but  his  or  her  o^vn  stand-point  ?  Letty 
was  not,  indeed,  the  worst  woman  in  the  world.  She 
was  rather  defective  in  the  womanly  attributes  of 
nature ;  but  the  defect  was  one  that  society  tends  to 
cultivate  as  an  excellence.  She  could  not  so  aban- 
don her  personal  ideas  and  inclinations,  so  lose  her 
individuality  under  the  coercion  of  such  passion  as 
possessed  her,  as  to  feel  an  interest  in  life  only  in 
the  degree  in  which  it  affected  another.  Phoebe 
became  one  with  Pembroke  :  whatever  might  affect 
that  composite  one  reached  her  perceptions.  For 
what  might  reach  only  Phoebe  Braxton  she  had  lit- 
tle care. 

But  whatever  might  happen  to  other  human  crea- 
tures, Letty  never  regarded  events  save  as  they 
might  affect  the  welfare  of  Letty  Pettibone. 

She  was  not  far  from  the  type  of  the  woman  of 
the  time. 

In  proportion  as  woman  is  fit  to  live  without  man, 
she  is  unfitted  to  live  with  him  ;  and  many  unhappy 
marriages  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the  habit  of  look- 
ing upon  marriage  as  an  optional  fact  has  forced  the 
growth  of  a  type  of  woman  that  can  get  on  without 
it.  These  women  are  more  or  less  masculine  in 
moral  and  intellectual  qualities. 


TATTOO   ROLL-CALL.  303 

They  are  independent  in  spirit;  they  have  the 
dominating  instinct ;  and  they  have  the  courage  and 
the  talent  to  fight  the  world  as  formerly  only  men 
fought  it.  But  they  have  lost  the  feminine  percep- 
tion which  held  that  the  only  thing  in  the  world 
worth  a  woman's  conquest  w^as  a  man. 

But  there  came  in  consequence  of  Letty's  defeat 
a  great  chance  to  Mr.  Chawpney,  for  he  was  destined 
to  extort  the  uncompromising  admiration  of  the 
brilliant  Mrs.  Pettibone.  This  happened  when  he 
once  opened  his  mind  completely  to  that  lady,  who, 
as  she  left  him  on  this  occasion,  said  to  herself : 

"  And  only  to  imagine  that  I,  with  all  my  talent 
for  understanding  intellectual  people,  should  once, 
in  complete  ignorance  of  this  man,  have  despised  him 
as  a  fool,  and  have  regretted  that  idiot  Pembroke  !" 

The  occasion  for  this  reflection  was  as  follows : 

They  talked  of  marriage,  and  of  their  means,  and 
of  Chawpney's  prospects  in  his  practice,  and  of  what 
might  be  yet  realized  from  the  Pettibone  estate  ;  and 
Lsetitia  was  of  opinion  that  altogether  it  was  not 
enough ;  that  if  she  married  again  she  must  have 
*'  an  establishment,"  and  that  the  establishment  which 
could  be  set  up  between  them  with  their  present 
means  would  not  be  satisfactory. 

"  Then,"  said  Chawpney,  "  there  is  that  ninety 
thousand  dollars." 

"  What  ninety  thousand  dollars  ?" 

"  Why,  the  ninety  thousand  that  was  paid  for  the 
forged  papers." 

"  Well,  what  about  that  ?" 


304  *'AS   WE   WEKT   MAECHING   OK." 

"  Why,  it's  my  opinion  that  that  could  be  recov- 
ered ;  and  I'm  not  sure  if  it  could  not  be  recovered 
with  the  interest,  which  would  run  it  a  good,  round 
sum  above  a  hundred  thousand." 

"Recovered?  Do  you  mean  that  it  could  be 
extorted  from  those  people  again  ?" 

"I  mean  that  those  extortioners  could  be  com- 
pelled to  pay  it  again  to  the  rightful  owners." 

"  You  give  one  a  wonderful  surprise.  Explain 
it  all  to  me." 

"  Well,  you  see,  money  that  has  been  paid  with- 
out a  valuable  consideration  can  be  recovered  if  the 
parties  are  responsible :  and  they  are  responsible. 
They  have  grown  enormously  rich  on  army  con- 
tracts." 

"  But  consideration  means  what  we  received  for 
the  money." 

"  Yes." 

"  We  received  the  papers." 

"No;  what  you  obtained  was  the  promise  or 
agreement  of  these  people  not  to  prosecute  some 
person  for  an  alleged  forgery." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it." 

"  Well,  that  is  not  a  legal  consideration.  All  the 
courts  have  decided,  generations  since,  that  for  a 
person  to  agree  to  do  that  which  he  has  not  the 
right  to  do  is  not  legally  a  consideration  ;  and  of 
course  these  persons  had  not  the  right  to  save  a 
criminal  from  the  consequences  of  his  crime." 

"  And  they  can  be  compelled  to  repay  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  believe." 


TATTOO  KOLL-CALL.  305 

"  "Why,  the  thought  of  it  almost  takes  my  breath 
away."  And  Letty  turned  her  bright,  keen  eyes 
upon  Chawpney  with  a  restful  regard  of  down- 
right admiration. 

"  But  the  others?  If  these  people  are  compelled 
to  refund,  they  will  go  on  with  the  prosecution." 

"And  what  of  that?" 

"  Sure  enough." 

"Whom  will  they  prosecute?  Perhaps  Pem- 
broke," said  this  little  Machiavelli. 

"Let  them!"  broke  in  the  lady,  with  energy. 
"I  wish  they  would  prosecute  him  and  find  him 
guilty.  How  I  should  rejoice  to  see  him  well 
landed  in  State  prison  !" 

"Andif  it  were  Jack?" 

"  Well,  who  cares  ?  I^ot  I.  But  if  they  are  to 
prosecute  Jack,  they  must  find  him,  I  suppose. 
And  as  for  father,  I  believe  he  would  rather  have 
Jack  in  a  prison,  where  he  could  go  and  see  him, 
than  not  know  where  he  is." 

And  then,  in  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm,  the 
lady  declared  that  "this  was  the  most  glorious 
thing  that  any  one  had  ever  imagined ;"  whereupon 
Chawpney,  seizing  the  happy  moment,  "stormed 
home"  with  his  matrimonial  project,  and  it  was 
then  agreed  that  she  would  marry  him  if  this  case 
were  gained. 

But  how  would  Peuben  take  this  ?  Well,  there 
was  no  difficulty  on  that  side. 

Peuben  Pettibone  had  grown  rapidly  old.  Some- 
times we  observe  this  odd  phenomenon  of  a  man 
20 


306  "AS   WE   WEKT  MARCHING   ON." 

wlio  seems  to  wear  into  a  hale  vigor,  showing 
scarcely  tlie  signs  of  his  real  age,  but  who  falls  into 
senile  decay  in  the  conrse  of  a  few  months,  as  if 
Time  were  behindhand  in  accounts  with  him  and 
forced  a  settlement  all  at  once.  It  was  so  with 
Keuben,  who  saw  in  everything  about  him  only 
some  reminder  of  a  lost  battle,  the  defeat  of  some 
treasured  scheme  or  hope.  He  grew  suddenly 
feeble,  and  Lsetitia  became  a  person  of  practical  use- 
fulness as  she  assumed  control  of  the  household  and 
of  her  father's  affairs. 

Consequently  his  books  were  all  in  her  hands 
and  she  was  the  dominant  spirit.  She  found  in  his 
safe  all  the  records  of  that  painful  transaction  with 
the  bankers ;  and  though  it  awakened  doleful  remi- 
niscences to  go  over  that  story,  she  studied  it  with  a 
kind  of  fascination.  She  saw,  in  the  light  of  what 
Chawpney  had  told  her,  that  it  was  possible  to  turn 
destiny  to  account.  She  put  the  documents  in  the 
lawyer's  hands,  and  suit  was  promptly  begun.  Per- 
sons interested  in  the  law  may  read  the  record  of 
that  famous  trial  in  Stump  Eeports,  Q.  X.  E.,  iv. 
809,  12,263. 

Chawpney's  great  speech  on  the  grasping  tyranny 
of  corporations  is,  however,  given  in  the  report  only 
in  a  mere  outline.  The  jury  decided  in  favor  of 
Lsetitia  without  leaving  their  seats ;  and  though  the 
bankers  appealed,  they  were  compelled  to  pay  at 
last.  It  was  the  greatest  triumph  that  a  junior 
lawyer  ever  gained  in  that  part  of  the  country. 

Indeed  the  triumph  was  so  decisive  that  it  opened 


TATTOO   ROLL-CALL.  307 

to  Cliawpney  an  immediate  liigli-road  to  fortune ; 
and  if  Lis  contract  with  L?etitia  had  been  merely 
mercenary,  he  might  have  dropped  it  now.  But  he 
was  fond  of  her,  and  she  was  proud  of  him.  So  they 
were  married,  and,  what  may  seem  more  strange, 
were  very  happ}^. 

Montlis  and  years  rolled  aw^ay — if  months  and 
years  do  roll ;  though  perhaps  that  phrase  is  only  in- 
tended to  signify  that  the  world  rolls  away  and  reels 
off  from  its  surface,  like  so  many  measures  of  yarn, 
these  measures  of  time.  But  perhaps  we  could 
not  say  that  months  and  years  reeled  away  unless  we 
intended  to  signify  that  they  were  tipsy ;  and,  alas  ! 
they  are  dreadfully  sober. 

Months  and  years,  however,  passed  in  their  pe- 
culiar way,  and  developed  a  kind  of  unity  in  the 
married  life  in  Maine,  and  a  more  beautiful  unity  in 
Braxton  House,  or  what  was  left  of  it,  where  there 
was  celebrated  another  marriage,  not  tried  before- 
hand by  modes  of  bibliomancy.  Major  Pembroke, 
by  the  way,  had,  just  after  the  occurrence  of  the 
events  above  narrated,  been  set  right  in  the  eyes 
of  his  comrades  in  the  service  by  a  court  of  in- 
quiry, called  upon  his  own  demand,  which  investi- 
gated his  many  months  of  continued  absence  with- 
out leave,  and  found  tliat  he  had  not  failed  in  his 
oblio-ations  as  a  soldier.  This  stilled  some  envious 
tongues. 

Finally  there  came  a  time  when  a  discovery  was 
made  in  the  Shenandoah  Yalley  in  which  the  reader 
of  this  history  may  feel  an  interest. 


308 

On  one  of  tlie  wooded  slopes  half  way  down  the 
mountain,  and  only  about  a  mile  away  from  a  road 
at  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  there  had  stood  a  giant 
chestnut-tree  of  which  all  the  darkies  had  some  in- 
definable fear.  An  "  old  uncle"  of  the  African  va- 
riety, who  was  himself  a  real  African,  had  one  night 
in  the  time  of  the  war — such  was  the  story — been 
hidden  away  in  the  woods  at  a  moment  when  the 
rebel  army  was  rushing  down  the  valley.  He  had 
heard  a  strange  plaintive  cry  which  he  had  imagined 
to  be  some  person  in  distress  ;  and  advancing  cau- 
tiously, filled  in  equal  parts  with  fear  and  witli 
charity,  he  had  been  led  by  the  sounds  to  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  this  tree.  But  he  saw  no 
one ;  and  though  he  spoke  feebly  and  with  hesita- 
tion, he  heard  no  answer.  Yet  he  seemed  to  hear 
sounds  of  a  human  voice,  and  was  convinced  they 
came  from  that  very  tree.  Had  he  been  still  in 
Africa,  he  would  have  kneeled  down  and  worshipped 
the  tree  as  a  god  or  as  the  home  of  a  god ;  but  he 
was  a  very  good  Christian,  and  therefore  above  such 
heathen  ways.  So  he  only  raced  down  to  the  valley 
again,  prepared  to  face  any  merely  human  fate  rather 
than  what  witchery  and  the  devil  might  have  on 
hand  in  the  woods. 

Indeed  this  old  fellow  never  had  the  courage  to 
mention  this  incident  to  anybody  until  life  seemed 
to  get  a  good  deal  calmer  in  the  village,  when,  after 
the  battle  of  Antietam,  the  rebs  went  south  again 
and  the  ISTorthern  regiments  reappeared.  He  then 
related  his  experience  to  a  Northern  man,  a  pedantic 


TATTOO   ROLL-CALL.  309 

personage  full  of  school  instruction,  who  listened 
witli  a  wise  profundity  and  then  said  : 

"  The  ancients,  who  knew  a  great  many  things 
that  we  don't  know,  talked  about  dryads,  and  hama- 
dryads, and  creatures  that  inhabited  the  trees ;  and 
I  am  not  sure  but  the  ancients  were  right.  You 
have  had  a  remarkable  experience." 

So  the  old  uncle  became  known  as  one  to  whom 
supernatural  secrets  had  been  in  part  divulged  ;  and 
the  tree  was  pointed  out  and  spoken  of  in  whispers 
and  with  wondering  curiosity. 

And  in  time  the  tree  died  ;  and  its  great  bare, 
long  arms,  desolate  and  horrible  in  the  daytime,  or 
grotesque  and  fantastical  in  the  moonlight,  were 
signals  from  afar  for  all  darkies  travelling  in  that 
region  to  go  a  roundabout  way. 

But  one  hot  summer  day  there  came  a  great  gale, 
a  whirlwind  which  with  irresistible  force  caught  the 
old  monster  by  his  giant  arms  with  a  giant's  grasp, 
and  twisted  him  around  so  as  to  part  him  entirely 
from  his  ancient  roots  at  a  point  close  to  the  ground. 
Then  as  he  lay  prostrate  it  was  perceived  that  he 
had  been  like  many  other  great  ones — hollow-hearted 
for  years ;  but  it  was  seen  also  that  he  had  a  ghastly 
secret  to  disclose.  As  the  tree  was  torn  and  forced 
away,  the  violence  of  its  departure  from  its  accus- 
tomed place  scattered  all  about  certain  bones  which 
had  been  contained  within  it ;  and  when  these  were 
fitted  together  by  the  ingenious  assistants  of  a  cor- 
oner, they  were  found  to  constitute  an  entire  human 
skeleton.     There  were  also  scraps  of  gray  cloth  and 


310  ''AS   WE  WENT  MARCHING   ON." 

military  buttons.  So  that  the  opinion  was  reached 
that  this  man  had  been  a  Confederate  soldier.  But 
who  he  was  or  how  he  ever  came  into  so  strange  a 
place  of  repose  was  always  a  mystery  in  the  valley. 
Hiram  and  Agate,  who  heard  of  all  this  and  knew 
somewhat  of  the  adventures  of  Captain  Willoughby, 
thought  they  could  guess  at  the  identity  of  this  sol- 
dier, and  thought  he  had  perhaps  taken  refuge  in 
that  tree  at  night  and  slipped  into  the  hollow  of  its 
tube-like  trunk  and  died  there ;  for  in  that  region 
men  sometimes  perish  in  that  way.  But  they  agreed 
never  to  mention  the  subject  at  Braxton  House. 


THE    END. 


BEN-HUR :  A  TALE  OF  THE  CHRIST. 

By  Lew.  Wallace.     New  Edition,     pp.  552.     16mo,  Cloth, 
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Anything  so  startling,  new,  and  distinctive  as  the  leading  feature  of  this 
romance  does  not  often  appear  in  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Some  of  Mr.  Wal- 
lace's writing  is  remarkable  for  its  pathetic  eloquence.  The  scenes  de- 
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Its  real  basis  is  a  description  of  the  life  of  the  Jews  and  Romans  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  and  this  is  both  forcible  and  brilliant.  .  .  . 
^Ye  are  carried  through  a  surprising  variety  of  scenes;  we  witness  a  sea- 
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From  the  opening  of  the  volume  to  the  very  close  the  reader's  interest 
will  be  kept  at  the  highest  pitch,  and  the  novel  will  be  pronounced  by  all 
one  of  the  greatest  novels  of  the  day. — Bost07i  Post. 

It  is  full  of  poetic  beauty,  as  though  born  of  an  Eastern  sage,  and  there 
is  sufficient  of  Oriental  customs,  geography,  nomenclature,  etc.,  to  greatly 
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"Ben-Hur"  is  interesting,  and  its  characterization  is  fine  and  strong. 
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One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  delightful  books.  It  is  as  real  and 
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chapters  of  history. — Indianapolis  Journal. 

The  book  is  one  of  unquestionable  power,  and  will  be  read  with  un- 
wonted interest  by  many  readers  who  are  weary  of  the  conventional  novel 
and  romance. — Boston  Journal. 


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THE  LITTLE  LAME  PRINCE  AND  HIS 
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CHARLES  READE'S  WORKS 


LIBRARY  EDITION. 

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h.  SIMPLETON,  AND  THE  WAN- 
DERING HEIR. 
A  TERRIBLE  TEMPTATION. 
A  WOMAN-HATER. 
FOUL  PLAY. 
GOOD  STORIES. 
GRIFFITH  GAUNT. 
HARD  CASH. 


IT    IS    NEVER    TOO    LATE    TO 

MEND. 
LOVE    ME    LITTLE,    LOVE    ME 

LONG. 
PEG  WOFFINGTON,  &c. 
PUT  YOURSELF  IN  HIS  PLACE. 
THE       CLOISTER      AND      THE 

HEARTH. 
WHITE  LIES. 


A  PERILOUS  SECRET.     12mo,  Cloth,  75  cents. 


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WILLIAM  BLACK'S  NOVELS. 


LIBRARY  EDITION. 

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A  DAUGHTER  OF  HETH. 
A  PRINCESS  OF  THULE. 
GREEN  PASTURES  AND  PICCA- 
DILLY. 
IN  SILK  ATTIRE. 
JUDITH  SHAKESPEARE.     IlPd. 
KILMENY. 

MACLEOD  OF  DARE.    Illustrated. 
MADCAP  VIOLET. 


SHANDON  BELLS.     Blustrated. 
STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  A 

PHAETON. 
SUNRISE. 
THAT     BEAUTIFUL     WRETCH. 

Illustrated. 
THREE  FEATHERS. 
WHITE  WINGS.    Hlustrated. 
YOLANDE.    Illustrated. 


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THAT  BEAUTIFUL  WRETCH.     Illustrated.     4to,  20  cents. 
THE  MAID  OF  KILLEENA,  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  MOIRA  FERGUS, 

and  other  Stories.     Svo,  40  cents. 
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BOOTS  AND  SADDLES; 

Or,  Life  in  Dakota  with  General  Custer.  By  Mrs.  Eliz- 
abeth B.  Custer.  With  Portrait  of  General  Custer, 
pp.  312.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

A  book  of  adventure  is  interesting  reading,  especially  when  it  is  all  tnie, 
as  is  the  case  with  "  Boots  and  Saddles."  *  *  *  She  does  not  obtrude  the 
fact  that  sunshine  and  solace  went  with  her  to  tent  and  fort,  but  it  in- 
heres in  her  narrative  none  the  less,  and  as  a  consequence  "  these  simple 
annals  of  our  daily  life,"  as  she  calls  them,  are  never  dull  nor  uninterest- 
ing.— Evangelist^  N.  Y. 

Mrs.  Custer's  book  is  in  reality  a  bright  and  sunny  sketch  of  the  life 
of  her  late  husband,  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  "  Little  Big  Horn."  *  *  ♦ 
After  the  war,  when  General  Custer  was  sent  to  the  Indian  frontier,  his 
wife  was  of  the  party,  and  she  is  able  to  give  the  minute  story  of  her 
husband's  varied  career,  since  she  was  almost  always  near  the  scene  of 
his  adventures. — Brooklyn  Union. 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  no  better  or  more  satisfactory  life 
of  General  Custer  could  have  been  written.  Indeed,  we  may  as  well 
speak  the  thought  that  is  in  us,  and  say  plainly  that  we  know  of  no  bio- 
graphical work  anywhere  which  we  count  better  than  this.  *  *  *  Surely  the 
record  of  such  experiences  as  these  will  be  read  with  that  keen  interest 
which  attaches  only  to  strenuous  human  doings ;  as  surely  we  are  right 
in  saying  that  such  a  story  of  truth  and  heroism  as  that  here  told  will 
take  a  deeper  hold  upon  the  popular  mind  and  heart  than  any  work  of 
fiction  can.  For  the  rest,  the  narrative  is  as  vivacious  and  as  lightly  and 
trippingly  given  as  that  of  any  novel.  It  is  enriched  in  every  chapter  with 
illustrative  anecdotes  and  incidents,  and  here  and  there  a  little  life  story 
of  pathetic  interest  is  told  as  an  episode. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

It  is  a  plain,  straightforward  story  of  the  author's  life  on  the  plains  of 
Dakota.  Every  member  of  a  Western  garrison  will  want  to  read  this 
book ;  every  person  in  the  East  who  is  interested  in  Western  life  will 
want  to  read  it,  too;  and  every  girl  or  boy  who  has  a  healthy  appetite 
for  adventure  will  be  sure  to  get  it.  It  is  bound  to  have  an  army  of  read- 
ers that  few  authors  can  expect. — FhUadelplda  Press. 

These  annals  of  daily  life  in  the  army  are  simple,  yet  interesting,  and 
underneath  all  is  discerned  the  love  of  a  true  woman  ready  for  any  sacri- 
fice. She  touches  on  themes  little  canvassed  by  the  civilian,  and  makes  a 
volume  equally  redolent  of  a  loving  devotion  to  an  honored  husband,  and 
attractive  as  a  picture  of  necessary  duty  by  the  soldier. —  Commonwealth^ 
Boston.  

Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  N.  Y. 

SSr  HAurEB  &  BnoTUKP.s  tvill  said  the  abov^.  work  by  mail,  pofitage  prepaid,  to  arnj 
part  of  ilie  United  titates  or  CatiMa,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


CHARLES  NOPiDHOFPS  WORKS. 


POLITICS  FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS.  By  Charles  Nordhoff  .16mo, 
Half  Leather,  75  cents  ;  Paper,  40  cents. 

It  is  a  book  that  should  be  in  the  hand  of  every  American  boy  nnd  girl,  This 
book  of  Mr.  Nordhoff '3  might  be  learned  by  heart.  Each  word  has  its  value ; 
each  enumerated  section  has  its  pith.  It  is  a  complete  system  of  political  science, 
economical  and  other,  as  applied  to  our  American  system.— X  Y.  Herald. 

CALIFORNIA :  A  Book  for  Travellers  and  Settlers.  By  Charles  Nord- 
hoff. A  New  Edition*  With  Maps  and  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth, 
$2  00. 

Mr.  Nordhoflfs  plan  is  to  see  what  is  curious,  important,  and  true,  and  then  to 
tell  it  in  the  simplest  manner.  Ilerodotns  is  evidently  his  prototype.  Strong 
sense,  a  Doric  truthfulness,  and  a  very  earnest  contempt  for  anything  like  pre- 
tension or  sensationalism,  and  an  enthusiasm  none  the  less  agreeable  because 
straitened  in  its  expression,  are  his  qualities.— xV.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

THE  COMMUNISTIC  SOCIETIES  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES ;  from 
Personal  Visit  and  Observation :  including  Detailed  Accounts  of  the 
Economists,  Zoarites,  Shakers;  the  Amana,  Oneida,  Bethel,  Aurora, 
Icarian,  and  other  Existing  Societies ;  their  Religious  Creeds,  Social 
Practices,  Numbers,  Industries,  and  Present  Condition.  Bv  Charles 
Nordhoff.     Illustrated.     8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 

Mr.  Nordhoff  has  derived  his  materials  from  personal  observation,  having  vis- 
ited the  principal  Communistic  societies  in  the  United  States,  and  taken  diligent 
note  of  the  jieculiar  features  of  their  religious  creed  and  practices,  their  social  and 
domestic  customs,  and  their  industrial  and  linancial  arrangements.  *  *  *  With  his 
exceptionally  keen  powers  of  perception,  and  his  habits  of  practised  observation, 
he  could  not  engage  in  such  an  inquiry  without  amassing  a  fund  of  curious 
information.  In  stating  the  results  of  his  investigations,  he'  writes  with  exem- 
plary candor  and  impartiality,  though  not  without  the  exercise  of  just  and  sound 
discrimination. — ^V.  Y,  Tribune. 

CAPE  COD  AND  ALL  ALONU  SHORE:  STORIES.  By  Charles  Nord- 
hoff.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50 ;  4to,  Paper,  15  cents. 

Light,  clever,  well-written  sketches.— .V.  Y.  Times. 

A  lively  and  agreeable  volume,  full  of  humor  and  incident Boston  Transcript. 

GOD  AND  THE  FUTURE  LIFE.     The  Reasonableness  of  Christianity. 

By  Charles  Nordhoff.     ]6mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

Mr,  Nordhoff's  object  is  not  so  much  to  present  a  religious  system  as  to  give 
practical  and  sufficient  reasons  for  every-day  beliefs.  He  writes  strongly,  clearly, 
and  in  the  vein  that  the  people  understand.— Boston  Herald. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

t^~  JiKMVv.v.  &  BEOTHETis  tPill  Send  the  above  works  by  mail,  pontage  prepaid,  to  ang 
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OATS  OR  WILD  OATS? 


Cominon-sense  for  Young   Men.     By  J.  M.  Buckley,  LL.D. 
pp.  xiv.,  306.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

It  is  a  good  book,  which  ought  to  do  good  on  a  large  scale.  .  .  .  Such 
passages  as  those  headed  Tact,  Observation,  Reflection,  Self-command,  and 
the  like,  may  be  read  and  re-read  many  times  with  advantage. — Brooklyn 
Uhio7i. 

A  book  which  should  be  recommended  to  the  consideration  of  every 
young  man  who  is  preparing  to  go  into  a  business  career  or  any  other  in 
which  he  may  aspire  to  become  an  honorable,  useful,  and  prosperous  citi- 
zen. ...  Dr.  Buckley  knows  the  trials  and  the  temptations  to  which 
young  men  are  exposed,  and  his  book,  while  written  in  most  agreeable 
language,  is  full  of  excellent  counsel,  and  illustrations  are  given  by  an- 
ecdotes and  by  examples  which  the  author  has  observed  or  heard  of  in 
his  own  experience.  Besides  general  advice,  there  are  especial  chapters 
relating  to  professional,  commercial,  and  other  occupations.  So  good  a 
book  should  be  widely  distributed,  and  it  will  tell  on  the  next  generation. 
— Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

It  is  a  model  manual,  and  will  be  as  interesting  to  a  bright,  go-ahead 
boy  as  a  novel. — Philadelphia  Record. 

The  scheme  of  the  book  is  to  assist  young  men  in  the  choice  of  a 
profession  or  life  pursuit  by  explaining  the  leading  principles  and  char- 
acteristics of  different  branches  of  business,  so  that  the  reader  may  see 
what  his  experiences  are  likely  to  be,  and  thus  be  enabled  to  make  an 
intelligent  selection  among  the  many  avenues  of  labor.  In  order  to  make 
his  work  accurate  and  comprehensive,  Dr.  Buckley  has  consulted  mer- 
chants, lawyers,  statesmen,  farmers,  manufacturers,  men  in  all  walks  of 
life,  and  specialists  of  every  description,  visiting  and  examining  their  es- 
tablishments, offices,  and  studios.  From  the  knowledge  thus  gained  he 
has  prepared  the  greater  part  of  his  book  The  remainder  is  given  to 
general  advice,  and  contains  the  old  maxims  familiar  to  all  young  men 
from  the  time  of  Poor  Richard.  Success  is  won  by  good  behavior,  fntelli- 
gence,  and  industry.  These  are  the  "  Oats."  The  "  Wild  Oats  "  of  lazi- 
ness, carelessness,  and  dissipation  bring  ruin,  disaster,  and  misery.  The 
work  is  likely  to  attract  readers  from  its  practical  value  as  a  compendium 
of  facts  relating  to  the  various  departments  of  labor  rather  than  on  ac- 
count of  its  moral  injunctions.  It  cannot  help  being  very  useful  to  the 
class  of  young  men  for  whom  it  is  intended,  as  also  to  parents  who  have 
boys  to  start  out  into  the  world. — N.  Y.  Times. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

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AMERICAN  POLITICAL  IDEAS, 

Viewed  from  the  Standpoint  of  Universal  History.     By  John 
FiSKE.     pp.158.     12mo,  Clotli,  $1  00. 

Mr.  Fisko  is  ouo  of  the  few  Americans  who  is  able  to  exercise 
a  dispassionate  judgment  upon  questions  wbicli  liave  been  the 
cause  of  quarrels  between  parties  and  sections.  Mr.  Fiske  has  a 
calm  way  of  considering  our  modern  ideas  from  the  standpoint 
of  universal  history. — N.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce. 

We  know  of  no  treatise  concerning  American  history  which  is 
likely  to  exercise  larger  or  better  influence  in  leading  Americans  to 
read  between  the  lines  of  our  country's  annals.  *  *  *  The  little 
book  is  so  direct  and  simple  in  the  manner  of  its  presentation  of 
truth,  so  attractive  in  substance,  that  its  circulation  is  likely  to 
be  wide.  Its  appeal  is  as  directly  to  the  farmer  or  mechanic  as 
to  the  philosophic  student  of  politics  or  history. — iV.  Y.  Commercial 
Advertiser. 

There  is  not  a  line  in  the  entire  work  which  is  not  laden  with 
the  richest  fruits  of  a  trained  and  powerful  intellect. — Commercial 
Bulletin,  Boston. 

When  Mr.  Fiske  comes  to  discuss  American  history  by  the  com- 
parative method,  he  enters  a  field  of  special  and  vital  interest  to 
all  who  have  ever  taken  up  this  method  of  study.  Our  history,  as 
the  author  says,  when  viewed  in  this  broad  and  yet  impartial  way, 
acquires  a  new  dignity.  There  is  no  need  to  say  that  Mr.  Fiske's 
pages  are  worthy  of  the  most  careful  study. — BrooJdyn  Union. 

From  this  point  of  view  the  consideration  of  the  political  ideas 
of  this  country  becomes  something  more  than  a  mere  study  of 
history ;  it  constitutes  a  page  of  philosophy,  a  social  study  of  the 
most  transcendant  importance.  Such  is  the  spirit  with  which 
Prof.  Fiske  handles  his  subject.  He  shows  how  our  institutions 
have  grown  and  developed  from  the  past,  how  they  have  a  firm 
basis  in  nature,  and  how  they  must  develop  in  the  future.  The 
lectures  are  important  reading ;  they  are  also  pleasant  reading,  for 
the  literary  stylo  of  Prof.  Fiske  is  exceptionally  pure,  clear,  and 
graceful. — Boston  Gazette. 

A  volume  of  great  interest,  and  illustrates  very  happily  some  of 
the  fundamental  ideas  of  American  politics  by  setting  forth  their 
relations  to  the  general  history  of  mankind.  *  *  *  We  heartily 
commend  this  little  volume  to  such  of  our  readers  as  desire  to  en- 
large their  ideas  and  views  of  the  political  principles  underlying  the 
foundations  of  our  system  of  government. — Christian  at  Work,  N.  Y. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 


'^H 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wi  liner 
589 


